


Only Illusions

by yamarazazzy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dysfunctional Relationships, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hope, Loneliness, Manipulative Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamarazazzy/pseuds/yamarazazzy
Summary: "I didn’t think you’d be interested in hidden warriors or secret ambitions.” Ozai commented, his golden eyes fixing on her with interest she had never seen before.“How would you know, your highness?” Ursa asked, keeping her voice sweet even as bile coursed under her words, “you barely know me.”
Relationships: Ikem/Ursa (Avatar) past, Ozai/Ursa (Avatar)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 179





	1. Two Complete Strangers

Everyone told Ursa she had to please the prince. Her mother whispered it to her before her wedding ceremony, her father murmured it in her ear as he gave her his blessing, and the Fire Sage even said as much as he bound her and Fire Prince Ozai together for the rest of their lives. 

> “Be what he wants.” 
> 
> “Do as he says.”
> 
> “Please him, however you can.” 

It took all of Ursa's self control not to roll her eyes or scowl at these instructions. Why should she have to please a man she barely knew? Why should she have to hide her true self for the sake of a marriage she had never wanted? The answer, of course, was obvious, and closely linked with why everyone was telling her to treat her new husband as if he was a god amongst men: for her family. The stain of her grandfather’s treachery ran deep and still blighted her family name to this day, ensuring they could never rise above their status as provincial magistrates, a bleak future for a once great family. Ursa herself could hardly care about such things, she was utterly content in Hira'a and with the life she and Ikem had planned, but this marriage, this stroke of luck thanks to the Fire Sages and their prophecy of the power of a mingled bloodline, presented an opportunity that her family had long been waiting for and something they could not pass up. The success of Ursa’s marriage, her arranged betrothal to the Fire Lord’s Second son, meant untold rewards for her family and the cleansing of the crimes of Avatar Roku, and her mother told her over and over how lucky a girl Ursa was. Yet, she didn't feel lucky or particularly honored by this affair. In fact, she felt almost cursed and as her wedding unfolded in all its splendor, she couldn’t help but wonder where her needs lay in all of this. Clearly, they were of no importance as her consent had been requested as a mere formality and was hardly needed for this match to be made. Really, the Fire Lord could have had her dragged to the altar, consent or not, and it was repeatedly whispered to her that she should be thankful for the veneer of respect the royal family was bestowing upon her. Ursa nodded and smiled at every one of these comments, but even with all this "respect", part of her wondered if could survive in this marriage. She knew well that one wrong move, one step out of line, and untold suffering could be brought down upon her head, but then again, she didn’t have much of a choice. She had to survive for her family’s sake, and that’s what she forced herself to think about as she was escorted to her new husband’s chambers, and it was her mother’s scared eyes and her father’s hopeful smile she focused on as her new husband, now dressed in nothing but a silk robe, appraised her as he drank a cup of sake, as beautiful and deadly as a blade in the candlelight.

> “I heard you were an actress before our betrothal.” He finally said after too long an awkward silence, putting down his cup and crossing his arms over his broad chest as his gold eyes burned across her robed form. “How good an actress were you?”
> 
> “I was told quite good, your highness.” She murmured with slight confusion, unsure of why this, of all things, was what he had chosen to ask her about. “I was often cast as the lead because of my talent.”

He hummed lightly at this, and she forced herself to keep her eyes downcast as he approached her, his movements slow and elegant like a prowling cat. She felt his hand gently lift her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes and she couldn’t help but shiver at the heat of his skin and the intensity of his gaze. He was a beautiful man, even Ursa, unhappy as she was, had to admit that, composed of sharp, symmetrical features and corded muscle, perfect in every way to the eye. His body seemed to declare that any woman should be honored to be married to him, but especially one like Ursa, whose family was essentially viewed as peasantry by the nobles of the capital, but she wasn’t. She didn’t want him to touch her, she didn’t want the life being his bride would force upon her. Despite what everyone said she should feel, she didn’t feel honored or lucky, and perhaps he saw this in her eyes because he let her go and chuckled, a low, mirthless sound that made her more worried than his silence or strange questions.

> “Not quite good enough it seems.” He murmured, before turning his back to her and picking up his cup.

She stared at him in confusion, watching him move past her towards the door and pull it open with a flourish, an action which finally broke the spell of her confusion and allowed her to find her voice once more.

> “Where are you going?” She asked, curious despite the relief coursing through her veins that it appeared he wasn’t planning to demand she lay with him.
> 
> “Somewhere I’m wanted, wife.” He answered coldly, the term sounding as foreign on his lips as it felt to her ears, “After all, I’m a prince, I don’t need to force myself on any woman when I have hundreds who would sell their souls to for the honor of laying with me.” Ursa felt her eyebrows raise in a mixture of anger and surprise and couldn’t help the heat that rushed to her cheeks as he appraised her over his shoulder, a grin pulling at his lips as if he found her amusing, “Sleep well.”

He vanished into the darkness as his words seemed to laugh at her and closed the door behind him, leaving Ursa alone in a strange room in a place foreign and potentially hostile to her. On one hand, she was relieved that he was gone, more than relieved actually. His departure meant she would not have to endure what she had anticipated to be a painful and awkward wedding night and wouldn't have to pretend like she enjoyed or even desired his attentions. On the other, however, she didn’t like him flaunting his desirability in her face like that, or the feeling of complete isolation that descended upon her as she stood alone in this place, a place she was sure she would never call “home”. She sighed and briefly appraised the room with tired eyes and eventually came to the conclusion that perhaps it was best he went off and sowed his passions elsewhere, at least then she didn’t have to pretend to care about what he did or fake passion tonight, when she was tired, homesick, and more than a little grief-stricken over the loss of her former life and everyone in it. After all, a terrible wedding night might spell disaster for her family, and the last thing they needed was to be disgraced because of a spoiled prince's annoyance over a passionless night. 

\------------

> “We’ll eat breakfast together every morning.” Ozai commented over his military brief as Ursa found herself seated before him at a low breakfast table the next morning, a steaming cup of tea before her and a wall of food between them. 
> 
> “As you wish.” She murmured after a moment, unsure of why this was a necessity, but forcing herself to relax anyways and bring the cup of tea to her lips. It was deliciously fragrant and she couldn’t help but smile as she took another sip. 
> 
> “My brother’s blend, if you’re wondering.” He remarked dryly, barely sparing her a glance as he put down the brief and picked up another, “but the morning meal is simply for appearances. It wouldn’t do for someone to walk in and think we are complete strangers.”

Ursa couldn’t help but arch a dark eyebrow at his words and allow her face to briefly look unimpressed. They were total strangers, after all, and it’d almost be easier to get to know each other than try to pretend otherwise. He must have sensed her critical gaze because he looked up and his gold eyes glittered in the sunlight as they met her amber ones. Really, he was a very pretty man, but his eyes were so cold and calculating that it made her shiver slightly as he held her gaze. Neither of them spoke for a long minute as they stared at one another, almost as if they were fighters sizing each other up before they began raining down blows on one another. His lips pursed slightly as she remained quiet, clearly waiting for her to agree to his order. She wondered if he was hoping she’d refuse and give him an excuse to discard her, something that’d be easy to do since their marriage had yet to be consummated. 

> “If you think that’s best, then I’d be happy to eat with you every morning.” Ursa finally replied, feeling as if her family’s anxious eyes were burning into the back of her neck with fear.

She swore he sighed at her words and shook his head slightly before returning to his papers and she wondered if she saw disappointment flash across that annoyingly handsome face. Had she imagined that strange look? Probably, or possibly she had misread it. Ursa was good at reading people, a skill that was required of any noble, capital or provincial, and had learned at a young age to watch people’s faces rather than listen to their words, but with strangers, sometimes it was easy to misinterpret subtle actions. What appeared as a smile could simply be a mirage brought on by wishful thinking, and a furrowed brow could easily be interpreted as anger when it was simply deep contemplation, and really, with Ozai, caution was probably for the best. Hopefully, if for only one good thing to come out of having to spend half an hour or so in his presence every day, she’d learn to read him better.

\--------

Ursa found over the following week that breakfast was actually rather pleasant as long as they didn’t actually try to make conversation. Most of the time, they sat in silence, each engrossed in their own business and although she did slowly learn to read his facial expressions, which were rather subtle in a way she knew could only have been achieved through careful practice, she found her mornings much more pleasant after he inevitably left to go about his business. Sometimes, if Ozai was in a good mood, a state she didn't yet know how to bring out of him, but was hardly different from when he wasn’t, he would ask her about mundane things and she’d give him token answers, often along the lines of:

> “The weather looks fine today, perhaps you should explore the gardens?”
> 
> “You’re right, my prince, it’s certainly a beautiful day, I’ll probably take a walk in the gardens later.” She’d reply.

or something like:

> “What are you planning to do today?” 
> 
> “Embroidery, I was hoping I could begin to personalize my room a little, is that all right?” She’d ask.
> 
> “It’s your room, you may decorate it as you choose.” He’d say.

It was all very boring, like two people acting out a conversation instead of actually trying to have it, and it was even worse if she tried to talk to him. Asking him about his day was likely to only result in single word answers, or worse, if he was not in a good mood, grunts, so she stopped after two or three tries. Silence, she found out, was preferable to talking to him, so she took to reading poetry in the mornings instead. They were not the fiery, romantic ones she had used to devour in the privacy of her room in Hira’a, reading those in public would likely have given her husband, and anyone else, the wrong idea about her desires, so she instead read ones by court poets, who praised flowers instead of bodies and waxed eloquent about fire instead of human nature. She found most of it dull, after all, as beautiful as these words were, she often found that they lacked substance, but every once and awhile she’d find one that piqued her interest. These poems were different from the others, similar on the surface with their pretty words and turns of phrase, but when one looked past superficial appearances, a whole new world was discovered, made of metaphors with double meanings, that spoke of what was below the surface of even the sweetest things. Perhaps they called to Ursa because she too wished she could escape her own sculpted facade and finally burn free, like the candle flame that possessed untold power. However, whenever she began to chafe under the decorum imposed on her as a Fire Nation Princess, and long to make demands, to speak out, to prove she had a voice, she remembered her family, and doused her inner flame with cold guilt. Her only act of small rebellion in the early weeks of her marriage, three to be exact, and still no consummation, was when she submitted her first collection of sponsored poems to the Palace Librarian. This act itself was not rebellious at all, in fact, she had been informed, not by Ozai, but a servant named Tyene she was growing rather fond of, that royal women often sponsored such things. Fire Lady Illah had, at least according to rumor, sponsored such a collection almost every other week, and was therefore praised as a great supporter of the written word. No, it was not the act of sponsoring the poems that was rebellious, but the poems she chose. Each and every one, however superficially innocent, seemed to hint at secret worlds beneath what the eyes could see, of the power within the sap of an innocent flower, or the warrior hidden within the house cat that could be aroused if needed. These poems spoke about what Ursa felt, and this was the one way she thought she could show just a little of herself and plead ignorance if someone questioned her about it. The librarian hadn’t been at all suspicious when he looked over her chosen poems, in fact, he had been quite impressed with her taste, commended her even for bringing some lesser poets to light, and had assured her that the collection would be published within the day. It was, and the ladies of the court began quoting her chosen poems before the sun set. She wondered if they just liked how the words sounded, or if they too felt as she did, confined, trapped, but still powerful. She only came to regret her decision at breakfast a few mornings after the publication and found a silver tray layered with cards laying across her plate and her husband's attention decidedly not occupied by one of his many briefs or books.

> “From your sponsored poets, I would imagine.” Ozai told her before she even asked, stapling his fingers as he looked at her for the first time in days. “Interesting collection, by the way.”

Ursa felt her heart stop at his words, but forced her face to remain calm. She hadn’t thought he would care what poems she sponsored, she hadn’t even thought he was paying much attention to what she did at all. 

> “Do you like them, husband?” Ursa asked, gently picking up the first card and scanning its elegant printed thanks with a smile. 
> 
> “Some of them, although, I must admit, I didn’t think you’d be interested in hidden warriors or secret ambitions.” He replied, taking a sip of his tea, his attention still on her, possibly the longest he’d looked straight at her since he had decided against bedding her on their wedding night.
> 
> “How would you know, your highness?” She asked, keeping her voice sweet even as bile coursed under her words, “you barely know me.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, but she swore his lips quirked in the smallest hint of a smile. She turned from him to look at the next card, bordered with gold and reeking of perfume, and couldn’t help but grin as he stared at her a second longer before picking up a book and allowing them to sit in almost companionable silence. 


	2. Breaking the Silence

> “How is my brother treating you?” Prince Iroh asked as he deftly poured Ursa a cup of steaming tea that almost seemed to glitter in the light filtering in through the trellises of the garden pavillion.
> 
> “Cordially.” Ursa answered diplomatically, lightly blowing on the surface of her tea as she brought it towards her lips, “in truth, I barely see him.”
> 
> “Ah, and that is acceptable to you?” The Crown Prince asked, his warm gold eyes appraising her kindly as she took a delicate sip of her warm beverage, finding it tangy and laced with a sweet, citrus undertone that made her eyebrows rise in surprise and pleasure.
> 
> “Does it matter what is acceptable to me as long as it’s what he desires?” Ursa replied, raising her cup at him slightly, trying halfheartedly to take the edge off her words with a friendly smile. “Delicious, as always. Your blend?”
> 
> “No, this one was crafted by Lu Ten, although I did help him a little.” Prince Iroh answered happily, his face becoming almost handsome as he beamed at the mention of his beloved son. “But Ursa, you know there is no harm in asking him-”
> 
> “And risk angering him?” Ursa interrupted a little too sharply, although she quickly put a hand over her mouth at her thoughtlessness, looking towards the Elder Fire Prince fearfully. Iroh might be more congenial than his brother, but he was still Crown Prince of the Fire Nation and angering him could be almost worse than somehow earning her husband’s ire. “I’m sorry-”
> 
> “Please, don’t be,” The Crown Prince replied gently, his eyes sympathetic as they met hers across their tea table, “you are a member of the royal family, you should not have to fear us, especially my brother. I know he can be hot headed and his anger is well known, but he has duties to you, just as you have duties to him, and it is well known that a field unplanted will not bear fruit.”

Ursa swallowed under Iroh’s knowing gaze and she wondered how the elder prince had somehow learned her marriage bed still lay unconsecrated and barren.

> “How do you know about that?” She asked softly, looking down at her hands in slight shame, wishing once more that she had fire of her own to burn away her fears and weaknesses.
> 
> “My brother and I are not close, but of the two of us, only I have been married before.” Prince Iroh answered and Ursa sighed, folding her hands in the sleeves of her robes as she carefully appraised the prince, wondering if the heat from her skin could somehow protect her from the cold truth of her unhappiness.
> 
> “Well, perhaps he told you then why he left on our wedding night?” She finally asked, forcing her face to remain calm despite the embarrassment and annoyance coursing through her at having to discuss such a personal matter with yet another almost stranger, resenting that Ozai could speak so candidly about these matters, but she could hardly risk saying a word to anyone lest it come back to bite her. What she wouldn’t give to not be so alone in this beautiful, cold place. “Or why, no matter how hard I try to please him, he always seems ambivalent towards me at best, and disinterested at worst, except for that one time-” Ursa broke off as she saw Iroh’s eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. “Except when he found out about the poems.”
> 
> "Yes, those poems really were quite something," Prince Iroh mused almost absentmindedly, although his eyes, so keen and focused, told her his words were anything but careless, "It doesn't surprise me that they caught Ozai's attention."

She met Iroh’s gold eyes as his words, clearly carefully chosen, washed over her, drawing from her tired mind a strange thought that seemed so out of place with what she had been told, but also made quite a bit of sense when she thought about what she had experienced.

> “Your highness-”
> 
> “Iroh, please," He interrupted gently, "we are family.”

Ursa smiled at his words and couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread through her chest, banishing the cold jealousy that had just taken root there. It seemed she had been more starved for true companionship than she had realized.

> “Iroh, do you think I’ve been going about this the wrong way?” She asked, leaning forward slightly and placing her hand on the table.

The prince chuckled lightly at her words and took her hand in his, warm, like the sun, and strangely comforting to feel against her cool skin.

> “I think that, perhaps, both of you have been going about this wrong.” He answered gently, looking into her eyes with a steady serenity Ursa wished she possessed, “Stop trying to be what you think he wants, and stop letting him force what he wants upon you.”
> 
> “But if I do something wrong," Ursa protested, allowing her fears to be voiced out loud for the first time since her wedding day, an act that was both incredibly cathartic, but also doubly terrifying, "then my parents-”
> 
> “Don’t fear for them,” Iroh interrupted, his voice kind, but firm in a way that made her believe him, “I can promise you that nothing will happen to them, but let me tell you a secret about my brother, in all the years I’ve known him, he’s never respected anyone who let him walk all over them.”

\-----------

> “I heard you had tea with my brother yesterday.” Ozai commented nonchalantly, breaking into Ursa’s peaceful reading of a play some aspiring court playwright had submitted for consideration in her soon to be sponsored collection of dramas.
> 
> “I did.” Ursa replied, not looking at him over the book in her hand.
> 
> “May I ask what you talked about?” He inquired, and she felt herself tense as she lowered her book slightly to look at him over its pages.

He had never been interested in specifics about her day-to-day activities before and she was suspicious of his questions now. Had Iroh told him something?

> “Nothing of interest to you, I'm sure.” She answered primly, doing her best to defer his interest and praying he truly didn't know the contents of her and his older brother's conversation. The last thing she needed was Ozai thinking she had run to his brother about him, especially since that might give him delusions of grandeur or, worse, anger him if he thought Iroh had broken his confidence. “Tea and such.”
> 
> “Oh.” He answered and she heard Iron’s advice echo in her ears.
> 
> “We did talk about you though.” She added quickly, possibly too quickly since she almost immediately regretted her words as soon as they swirled in the air around her.

Ozai arched an eyebrow at her, but for the second time in recent memory, didn’t immediately lose interest in her and his face, so unflappable at all times seemed to grow slightly younger as curiosity took over.

> “Did you now? Do I want to know what about?” He asked, leaning forward slightly, and for a second, Ursa was going to tell him exactly what his brother had said about him.

Yet, as soon as she remembered the rumors of his anger and thought for a second about what he could do to her and those she loved, her mouth slammed shut like an iron gate. Ursa wanted so badly to break his vulnerable facade for a moment, to force him to pay attention to her and what she wanted, but she found that she couldn't. His eyes, the same gold as Iroh’s, were sharper and despite the curiosity, still seemed to hold untold danger that she feared rousing to the surface, even with the Crown Prince’s assurances. Once more, she found herself wishing she was a bender, that she had fire in her veins rather than blood because perhaps then, she wouldn't be so afraid. Yet, she didn't and her fear of him outweighed her frustration.

> “I suppose you don’t, it’d just bore you.” She murmured after a minute, bowing her head behind her book once more as she inwardly cursed her own cowardice.

She heard him sigh and found she could even imagine his usual ambivalence sliding back into place, but she said nothing and silence once again reigned.

\-----------

Another two weeks wore on with no further developments and Ursa was beginning to grow even more bored with her role, especially when Iroh went off on his next great campaign and she was left alone once more. Despite the interesting plays and sometimes entertaining poetry that began to flow her way from young writers yearning for her sponsorship and for her to promote their work and names, she found herself tiring of it all. Her husband hadn’t commented on the following volumes, which were no more brazen than her first despite her desire to continue her campaign of rebellion in that area, and she couldn't quite fathom why she cared so much that he seemed to have lost what little interest he had in her. She had no reason too and she repeatedly told herself it was best if he hardly thought of her at all. After all, if he didn’t think of her, he couldn’t hurt her or those she loved. Yet, one day, out of sheer boredom and perhaps a little spite, she picked up a book he had left on his side of the table and perused its cream-colored pages. It was a history of some campaign in the Earth Kingdom, and she was about to put it down as something of no interest, when she glanced upon an interesting passage which posited a question about how to successfully break a city through a prolonged siege. Ursa was no general and had actually never been very interested in military strategy, but she found her mind turning over the question, seeing it as a puzzle and a source intellectual meat which could provide a brief respite from this mind-numbing boredom. However, as soon as her initial excitement wore off, she found herself worrying about whether she should actually embark on answering this question. After all, Ozai probably didn’t want his wife, even his wife in name only, bothering with such matters and it wasn’t like she could actually solve it with her limited knowledge of military strategy. However, after a few moments of reading the details, she decided that, since Ozai clearly wasn't paying attention to anything she was doing, she might as well try. Not to mention that fact that it would be nice to study this instead of poems or plays for a few days, just as a brief respite from all the flowery language that had flown before her eyes for so long. She still read the poems and plays at breakfast, of course, especially since people did sometimes call on them and even if Ozai had been unbothered by her reading about military tactics over her breakfast, she doubted the rather conservative and traditionalist royal court would have been as ambivalent about the matter. However, as soon as Ozai excused himself to go and conduct his still nebulous business and no more visitors were expected, she’d go to his study and pull from his stuffed shelves whatever books she thought would help her solve the problem of the siege. He had never forbidden her from entering this space, or even taking books from it, but nevertheless, she found she enjoyed the potential danger and secrecy of her actions and soon this study became on of her favorite rooms in the whole palace With its tall, broad shelves carved in dark wood and huge windows that let in ample light, the place seemed to resonate with an air of respect and peacefulness that Ursa found comforting. Not to mention, Ursa knew there was power in knowledge, and even though she was no bender like her husband, whose bouts she had never seen, but whose talent was almost legendary, she could perhaps hone her own inner fire with the power in these thick volumes. This went on for some time without anyone being the wiser, and when Ozai did find out about how she spent her free time, she almost wondered if some part of her had been intentionally careless out of a starved sense of companionship that made even Ozai’s attention seem desirable. She had painted the siege from his book, a rough sketch really, but it had helped her visualize the field, the Earth City and it’s high walls, the fire army and its huge numbers, and she had slowly added aspects that she thought would have ended the siege long before it had in actuality. She must have left it in his study, or perhaps just the shared parlor area, because she found it handed to her as Ozai appeared to join her for breakfast about three weeks after her studies began.

> “Interesting sketch, Ursa.” Ozai murmured as he seated himself down across from her. “The Siege of Kuyan, right?” 

Ursa swallowed at his words, afraid, but also strangely unafraid under his gaze as she looked from the rough sketch to her husband and then back again.

> “Yes.” She answered simply, waiting for him to reveal his thoughts before she gave more away.
> 
> “May I ask why you’ve added the archers on the cliffs?” He asked, gesturing languidly towards the painting, not questioning why she was painting it or where she had learned of it like she thought he might. "In the actual siege, I do believe using archers to reach over the walls was only attempted once."
> 
> “You're right, but-”
> 
> “but, the general in charge tried that, but the city defenders knocked the archers from the cliffs before they could do any real damage to the city's fortifications.” He interrupted, his voice slightly condescending in a way that made her pride balk and her annoyance almost too strong to control. 
> 
> “Of course they couldn't do any lasting damage, even burning arrows are little use against a city made of stone," Ursa cut back, making her voice just as patronizing as his, an action that she noticed made him raise his eyebrows, but she refused to let her fear stop her now, "The archers in this version would have been used to deliver poison into the food supply or central wells. If the city began to starve, or the water became undrinkable, then the city would have to surrender, or, if it didn’t, the army need only wait a matter of days before they could take it from the weak and starving populace.” She continued almost proudly despite how harsh her words sounded and how terrible they may have made her look. "They could also be used to introduce disease into the besieged city with much the same result." If it had been anyone but Ozai listening to her, she might have cared that he'd think less of her for this gambit, but since he hardly seemed to think anything of her, it hardly seemed to matter much. In real life, of course, she doubted she’d have the stomach to poison or infect an entire city. After all, she didn’t care much for the war, a very unpopular opinion, and thought that the random taking of so much life was disgusting, but as a mental exercise, the use of poison and/or disease had proved to have many more possibilities than any involving brute force. "That could easily reduce a siege that took months into one that took a few weeks at most."

Ozai stared at her silently for a moment and for the first time in their month and a half of marriage, she saw him look genuinely impressed, something that was as satisfying as it was worrying. After all, of all the things to be impressed by, why cruelty? 

> “Ruthless,” Ozai finally commented, his gold eyes glinting beautifully as he appraised her, “but potentially very effective. How did you come up with that?” Ursa considered lying and saying she had just made it up, but something in her, an inner fire tired of being locked away and hidden, refused to allow it.
> 
> “I read about it in the books you keep leaving out and in the tomes in your study, and applied my mother’s lessons on botany and healing, which proved much more interesting than these poems the librarian keeps sending me.” She answered, her voice dripping with slightly more condescension than she meant. “Is that a problem, husband?”
> 
> “No,” He murmured before taking a sip of tea, his eyes glimmering with, well, something she hadn’t seen before at the slight challenge in her voice, “not a problem at all."


	3. Nothing Good

Ursa hated how grateful she was that their conversations increased over the following weeks as she learned more and more about the tactics and strategies employed by her country during the Hundred Year War. Debates flew between her and Ozai, as fast and sharp as lightning, on the success of certain campaigns, on alternatives that could have been employed to seize victory, and on the morality of some of the underhanded tactics used to snatch victory from the hands of the enemy. For the first time in their nearly two month long marriage, something Ursa found both easy and hard to believe, she felt that they were finally, at least on some level, beginning to understand each other, to find common ground. She learned that Ozai favored decisive victories and thought the honor of a clean, obvious win was better than the glory of an almost defeat. Ursa preferred decisive victories as well, but only because those tended to result in less loss of life than the barely victories, or almost defeats. Ozai wasn’t opposed to subterfuge, which was one of the reasons he had been so impressed by her strategy to starve, dehydrate, or sicken the city of Kuyen into submission. Ursa agreed that subterfuge was sometimes necessary, but she thought underhanded tricks were distasteful and lacked honor. Ozai believed power was the ultimate decider of a battle, which Ursa could only assume was tied to his royal position and his own experience as a fire bender. Ursa, on the other hand, thought that a clever strategy could counteract superior strength or power. They debated these things back and forth, dueling like masters with words as blows and facts as parries, and a sick part of Ursa, a part she didn't like nor understood, enjoyed their battles and the look the came over Ozai's face in the heat of debate. A darkness would take over his eyes and his stoic facade would crack and break, and she would feel a thrill every time she made him hit the table to prove a point or their eyes met in a silent contest of wills, gold into amber, fire against fire. Yet still, there was an underlying fear through all their interactions that made her weary of pushing him too far. To her, he seemed almost like a flame, beautiful to behold and something which could be toyed with to a point, but if the game was taken too far, would consume you. Perhaps her real fear was that she wasn't nearly as afraid of that as she probably should have been.

> “Sending the assassins to eliminate the Earth General during the Third Campaign was a smart move, but a victory like that stinks of trickery and the honor won is significantly less than the glory of a fair fight.” Ursa told him one morning between delicate bites of sweet meats.
> 
> “How can it be less?” Ozai countered, weaving his fingers together as he appraised her over the table, the intensity in his eyes making them seem somehow brighter and more dangerous. “General Li sent the Earth Army into disarray without losing a single man. He single-handedly won the day.”
> 
> “But General Li didn’t kill the Earth General himself, he just had someone else do it, so the glory actually lie with his assassins." She replied evenly with a fearlessness that would have been unthinkable only two weeks ago. "Not to mention the fact that his unwillingness to meet the opposing army in battle shows he doubted his ability to beat them fairly.” She took a delicate sip of her tea as she met his gaze confidently, "As I see it, there is almost no glory there to be won."
> 
> “War is almost never fair, Ursa.” Ozai responded after a moment, his voice heavy as he said her name, but surprisingly free of annoyance, “Those who believe it is are the first to die.”

Ursa felt something within her tremble under his gaze, fear probably, but also maybe something else she refused to think about too much.

> “Is honor not worth dying for?” She whispered in response, her eyes drifting from his eyes to his lips for the briefest of moments before snapping back.
> 
> “Honor is worth living for.” Her husband responded, making her wonder when she had started to think of him as her husband, and Ursa found she really couldn’t argue with him on that, something he clearly knew too because his smug smile was the perfect mix of charming victory and irritating arrogance.

The fact that she found it both charming and irritating, rather than the just the latter, was also something she forced herself to ignore. After all, no good would come where that road of speculation led. No good at all.

\---------

> “What do you think of traitors, Ursa?” Her husband, _there that term was again_ , asked her a few days later, a brief in his hand which she thought had meant he was in no mood for a debate today, although perhaps that was a deception on his part to try and catch her off guard.

She looked up from her own book in surprise, thankfully not poetry this time, but one about the founding of the Fire Nation colonies, something not quite as shocking should some courtier come to call, but certainly a slight jab at all those twittering fools who seemed to think all she should be reading was poetry and "chaste romances", an idiotic concept that both she and Ozai had surprisingly found common ground over. Although, their agreement over the fact that romance was by definition anything but chaste was hardly important right now, when he was asking her about so dangerous a subject. She looked at him carefully as she placed her book delicately in her lap, but his unreadable mask was situated perfectly across his handsome face, and she had no idea what he wanted from her. Did he want her to rail against her grandfather? To defend traitors as misguided? There seemed to be no way of knowing and she couldn’t help but feel as if he was testing her, something she both disliked and resented. 

> “What type of traitors are you referring to?” Ursa finally asked in reply, hoping his answer would at least give her more time to think. “Political traitors? Deserters? Personal betrayals? All are different and merit different reactions.”

Ozai’s gold eyes met hers as she finished her words and there was something in them that reminded her of the fear she had felt when she had said her wedding vows. A sharp curiosity lurked in those gold depths that reminded her of how a hunter looked at their prey, and she forced herself to stare back unflinchingly, despite how fast her heart began to beat.

> “Take your pick, your answer will be telling whichever you choose.” Ozai answered, his words careful in a way that made Ursa feel like a mouse being batted at by a cat.

Yet, despite her growing unease, she also felt anger, surprising amounts of anger, in fact, although she didn't quite know why. Was she upset that he was toying with her, or was she angry that he seemed to respect her so little that he thought toying with her was acceptable? Perhaps it was something else entirely, but she certainly wasn't going to think about it too hard, or admit it to herself should it come to mind. 

> “I think personal betrayals are abhorrent.” She finally answered, swallowing her rage and deciding that was the safest despite her grandfather having, technically, betrayed his and Sozin’s friendship. Although, really, it was Sozin who had betrayed Roku by going against the Avatar's morals and invading the Earth Kingdom and then leaving him to die on a volcano, but that wasn’t something you said to Sozin’s grandson, or out loud ever if you didn’t want to be banished, or worse. “Trust is hard to earn and someone breaking your trust is one of the most painful things anyone can endure.”

Aside from death, although, when she thought about it, her grandfather had suffered both in short order. Anger rose in her chest once more as she thought about her father’s whispered stories of her grandfather’s greatness and demise, mostly meant to counteract the garbage she had been taught in school, but she forced herself not to let that ancestral rage reach her face. The last thing she needed, now that she had finally found something she could at least speak to Ozai about, was to offend him over an ancestral grudge. Although, maybe it would be good to offend him, at least then he'd think twice of treating her like his personal plaything.

> “Given that description, how do you think someone who breaks your trust should be dealt with?” Ozai asked nonchalantly, although his eyes gleamed with interest that told her he might be plotting something.
> 
> “Harshly.” She responded simply, praying that whatever machinations were taking place behind his eyes didn't end up hurting her, or worse, those she loved.
> 
> “Good." He muttered, seeming to stare at her with strange fascination for a moment before disappearing behind his reports once more.

She didn't know why, or exactly how she knew for sure, but something told Ursa that something was going to happen and she had a feeling it wouldn't be pleasant for her.

\----------------

Two nights later she learned why he had asked that question and, as she had suspected, it was anything but a pleasant experience for her. Ursa had been at a dinner in honor of someone’s birthday, a boring affair for someone not quite important enough for Ursa's husband to be expected to attend, but someone just important enough that she had been instructed to attend to signal that this family still retained some royal favor. She had been tempted not to go at all despite these instructions, but despite hating being used as a simple pawn in the machinations of court politics, she had done her duty and sat by her host's side until the stroke of midnight, when she had pleaded a headache and left. Naturally, this was something she deeply regretted doing when she opened the door and found herself face to face with a pretty woman exiting the prince's chambers. The girl’s eyes went wide as she realized who Ursa was, her cheeks blushing an embarrassed red, and it took one look at the girl’s pale, lithe neck, covered in love bites, to confirm why she was in the Fire Prince’s chambers.

> “My lady.” The girl murmured, bowing low, as if respect now would make up for the shame and strange hurt Ursa felt at this woman’s presence.

Ursa didn’t know why, but staring down at this girl, beautiful in the moonlight streaming in from the open windows and so clearly the object of Ozai's passion, she felt angry, almost incredibly so. She had known well her husband was probably frequenting the infamous tea houses that dotted the seedier part of the Fire Nation’s capital, or visiting the concubines she knew lived in the palace to please the royal family and nobles alike, but the fact that he had brought another woman here, to the chambers they shared, that seemed like a deliberate insult, a slap in the face, a personal betrayal, and it made Ursa's blood boil.

> “Good Evening,” Ursa finally managed to say, keeping her voice as gentle as possible since she knew any outburst on her part would immediately become the subject of malicious court gossip, "please be on you way."

She forced herself to look indifferent as she walked past the woman and managed to keep up her facade until she entered the first room she could find, waiting until she heard the door close behind the woman before finally allowing herself to clench her jaw and let out some mixture of a growl and huff. On one hand, she had never wanted Ozai, or so she told herself, and really had no right to be jealous of his attention towards others, their wedding night was proof of that. She had feared the consummation and despite the danger of an empty marital bed, she couldn’t help but be grateful that he had never forced the issue. She could fake many things as his wife. She could smile on his arm at the few court events they were forced to attend together, she could defer to him in arguments, and she could even force herself to be this cold, demure shadow of herself if that’s what was required of her, but she doubted she could force herself to enjoy laying with him. She was a better actress now than she had been when she had first come here, but she certainly was not that good, not to mention she had a feeling Ozai would not be a selfless lover and she hated the idea of him rutting over her, using her for his own pleasure, but leaving her distinctly unsatisfied. Yet, on the other hand, she knew word of this would inevitably get out. So far she had managed to avoid the worst of court gossip by being rather boring, and her ladies were kind enough to spare her the pain of having to confront the rumours about whatever Ozai did in his spare time, but if he started bringing girls here, well, there was no way the vultures at court would allow her to ignore the insult of her husband openly screwing others in their private rooms. Another part of her, _a very small part_ , or so she assured herself, was also hurt, _just the smallest bit hurt,_ over this insult. Actually, peeved was the a word for it since her feeling _hurt_ would require her to actually care first. So no, she wasn't _hurt_ by this betrayal, but she was peeved, bothered, perhaps even a little annoyed, that instead of trying to get to know her, or trying to make their marriage work, he had resorted to publicly humiliating her. Clearly, this showed he didn’t want her anymore than she wanted him, which was definitely a good thing and certainly nothing to be _hurt_ over, but if she was forced to act like this marriage wasn’t torture for her, than he should have to play his part as well! Almost without thinking, she steadied her face and strode towards Ozai’s room, a place she had never gone, nor wanted to go, until now, opening the door without even knocking. He appeared to be asleep when she entered, his long hair spread over his red silk pillows, his body relaxed and face serene, but she knew better. His face may have looked peaceful, but a telltale smirk was pulling at his lips that told her he was far from being lost in the world of sleep.

> “Ozai, next time you bring a girl here, please don’t have her walk out the main door.” Ursa told him, doing her best to display her disapproval without giving him the false impression that she was jealous, not that her emotions would really have mattered in this situation anyways.

For in truth, even if their marriage was truly anything other than a word and she did care enough to be _hurt_ , society still gave him the right to seek pleasure where he wanted, even if she was not permitted the same license. If he wanted to, he could have a full orgy in public and Ursa wouldn’t have been able to stop him, let alone follow that debauchery with licentiousness of her own, but she’d be damned if she let him embarrass her in front of the entire court without a fight.

> “Well, how is she supposed to leave, Ursa?” Ozai asked, emphasizing her name in a way that made her want to smack him, although his words did prove that he was indeed awake, even if he refused to open his eyes or look at her. “Jump out the window?”
> 
> “She can use the servant’s entrance, or yes, jump out the window for all I care.” Ursa answered, making her voice icy calm and sharp as she glared at him in the semi-darkness. “Just not through the front door for anyone to see.”

He sighed at her words, a long, drawn out thing that made her narrow her eyes slightly in irritation, and shifted on the mattress, finally opening his eyes to look at her as he languidly rested on his elbow, the muscles of his chest rippling as he lightly rolled his bare shoulders.

> “Servants gossip more readily than courtiers," He told, his tone dripping for uncalled for condescension, "having her go out that way would ensure someone saw her, but it's late, and no one would have seen-"
> 
> “I saw her.” Ursa cut in harshly, something she normally would not have done, but her ruse of a headache was now a reality and she was very, very tired in more ways that one. “I saw her," she repeated, a little softer this time, although she doubted she needed to emphasize that fact since it was obvious, "meaning others probably did too.”
> 
> “And that bothers you?” Ozai commented, arching a dark eyebrow at her as she crossed her arms over her silk-covered chest.
> 
> "Don't flatter yourself-"
> 
> "So it does bother you, interesting." He interrupted, certainly smirking now and she felt her hand twitch at her side, as if yearning to slap that look off his face, but even worse than that, she felt heat rush to her own pale cheeks and she cursed herself for blushing at a time like this. "What bothers you more, wife? That you now have undeniable proof that our marriage is nothing but a sham, or that others might know I screw common women rather than you? Or, perhaps, is it something else?”

If Ursa had been a bender, her hands would have erupted in flames as anger coursed through her at his words. Did he know what she had given up to marry him? Did he know the fear she had to live with every day and that, if not for the threat against those she loved, she would have fled this stifling cage long ago? And what did he mean by "is it something else"? The nerve! He didn’t have to love her, he didn’t even have to like her, but how dare he treat her with so little respect! Her body seemed to move on its own, rushing forward and before she could fully realize what was happening, she was on top of him, forcing him to sit up and look up at her as she gripped his chin, squeezing tight enough to probably hurt. She glared down into his eyes as shame, frustration, and anger coursed through her blood and she only grew more upset when she realized he was definitely naked under the thin sheets between them. She also realized she was close enough to kiss him, which was a strange thought amidst her angry and frustrated musings and one she immediately banished.

> “It bothers me, husband, that although I have tried my best to be cordial, my best to make this curse of a marriage something at least livable, you still shame me by so openly declaring that you think me worthless.” She hissed, staring down into his eyes, which were intrigued rather than annoyed.

He stared back at her for a long moment, heavy with, well, something, and then she felt one of his hand's gently grasp her wrist, possibly to stop her from squeezing any harder, as he shifted under her slightly.

> "Ursa-"
> 
> “I know you didn’t want to marry me," she interrupted firmly, his hand seeming strangely warm against her wrist, "and believe me, I didn’t want to marry you either, but unless you want our living situation to become even more unbearable than it is, don’t let me see another woman here again.” 
> 
> “And what will you do if I do bring another here?” He murmured, seeming to lean a little closer, so close she could feel the heat from his skin on her face as his gold eyes bored into her amber ones, a challenge in his voice that she refused to shrink at.
> 
> “I’ll deal with you harshly, and you will regret it.” She hissed, putting a hand on his chest to keep him from coming any closer, forgetting in that moment that he was bare chested and that threatening him could bring disaster upon her and her family, and the fact that there was almost no chance she could follow through on said threat.

She swore he smirked in the moonlight, his heart beating under her hand faster than she would have expected, and she couldn't help but let out a light gasp as she felt his other hand rest lightly on her outer thigh. For a moment, as she looked from his hand back to his face, the world seemed to stand still. Everything was silent, there was nothing but her and him, connected by four points of contact that seemed to burn like flames in the night and heat that seemed to emanate from his body under hers. Sparks seemed to be running through her veins, racing and twisting in a way that made her heart sing and soar and she watched his eyes almost soften as his thumb began to stroke the soft skin of her inner wrist. However, a voice called out somewhere outside their rooms and the moment shattered as reality came crashing back down on her. Ursa wretched herself free from his grasp, ignoring the pleasant ache his hand had left on her wrist and stormed from the room, not waiting to see what he’d do next. Instead, she slipped out into the darkness, her body seeming to shiver with an unfamiliar heat and her dreams that night were filled with fire that moved like strong hands and a pair of golden eyes that made something within her burn and burn. Morning came too soon and she was almost embarrassed to face him at breakfast, but Ozai kept his peace and so did she, and they passed their morning in a familiar silence that was followed for Ursa with a very cold bath and a long, judgemental look at herself in the mirror. She decided to blame the sake for the events of last night and banished the memories of that moment, and the ensuing dreams, somewhere deep within her where they couldn't bother her again.


	4. A Childish War

Ozai never spoke of the events of that night to her and Ursa was more than happy to pretend the whole of it, from meeting the courtesan to her straddling him in pure rage, had never happened. However, despite the silence hanging between them, the heaviness of whatever that moment meant, Ursa knew whatever semblance of peace they had been building was now irreparably shattered. Debates no longer flew between them and the air no longer crackled with the lightning of their words. Ozai read his briefs, Ursa read her poetry, and they sat in deafening silence, absent of even the stilted conversations that had characterized their early marriage, and although Ursa never did catch one of Ozai’s dalliances again, she knew for a fact he did keep bringing courtesans or concubines to their rooms. Sometimes the scent of a sweet jasmine perfume would still be in the air when she returned to their rooms, or Ozai would return from his training, bare chested and shining with sweat, dark blotches dotting his otherwise untouched skin that were obviously from the night before. All of this she could ignore, of course, just as she ignored the dreams that seemed to torment her more and more often, but when the whispers started, well, it was much harder to ignore his behavior when it was being constantly thrown in her face. At first, it was just an overheard conversation amongst two servants in an alcove.

> “....Taima says there were two in there with the prince last night.”
> 
> “Two? And his wife knows?”
> 
> “She wasn’t there, but how could she not?”
> 
> “Poor lady.”

Their words seemed to slither around her like snakes and dig into the chinks in her armor like arrows, and Ursa had to force herself not to react as she continued on her way to the gardens. Over and over she told herself that those words, those horrible, biting words meant nothing to her, that the murmurings of servants could hardly hurt a princess. Yet, she knew that wasn't true. It always started with the servants, who were able to move around unseen, catching glimpses and hearing things they should not, but it always grew from that. It was only servants now, but she knew that it would soon be minor courtiers, than the honored nobles, and then the whole palace would know and their beady eyes would follow her wherever she went, spinning anything she did, any face she made, and any word she said, into the narrative of "the slighted wife". She felt shame and anger knot within her as she recalled the pity dripping in that servant’s voice and her anger quickly grew into a hot frustration pulsing through her veins as she realized how powerless she truly was. She waved for her ladies to leave her as she walked swiftly through the gardens, turning down twisting paths and behind flowering bushes until she was well-hidden from the eyes of anyone watching her and she shook her head as she felt something heavy consume her throat and realized that she was on the verge of crying, which was ridiculous. After all, she had never been delusional enough to think that Ozai cared about her, but nonetheless, something within her was hurting and although she wasn't going to let tears fall from her own amber eyes, something deep within her was crying. Was it because of that night? Of that single moment when he had looked at her and the world had stopped? Was it because she once again felt completely and utterly alone in this place? Or perhaps, was she so upset about this betrayal because, despite everything he had done and all she knew about who Ozai was, she’d at least been hoping he’d respect her enough to listen to her wishes? Well, if that was the case, he seemed to have set out to deliberately spite her request, poking and prodding at her, playing with her to show her that no matter what she did, he had all the power and she was nothing. In retrospect, it had probably been a poorly thought out idea to threaten to “deal with him harshly”, let alone touch him as she had. She supposed the only thing she could do now that he had shown how little he cared about what she wanted, was spite him and pay him back in kind. A dangerous idea, no doubt, as perilous as playing with fire, but now that she was already burnt and something within her was no doubt scarred, she found herself unafraid of Ozai or what the flames of his games could do to her.

\----------

How childish this whole thing seemed, how unnecessary and uncalled for, but each whisper that reached Ursa's ears strengthened her resolve, and the next morning, she started her campaign, a momentous decision that really only constituted her staying in her room, locking the door, and refusing to come out no matter how often a servant knocked telling her that the prince was waiting. The poor man knocked and pleaded, but Ursa kept her peace and he eventually gave up under her complete wall of silence. Ursa half expected Ozai himself to storm up to her door when she heard something crash outside, but of course, him smashing something in anger was only wishful thinking since she knew Ozai prided himself on his self-control and discipline and would hardly be driven to such an action by a first strike. No, he was patient and calculating, so Ursa would have to be too, so she waited and she listened, and only exited the safety of her chamber when she knew Ozai was gone. As she enjoyed her breakfast, well, more like lunch given how late it was, alone, she couldn't help but feel strangely satisfied with herself, proud that she had not let her fear cow her into putting up with Ozai's mockery. This joy, however, was ridiculously short lived, and she was rewarded for her morning impudence with the loud sounds of pleasure that night emanating from the wall that divided her and Ozai’s chambers, clearly meant for her ears since he had never indulged in his debauchery when she was present before. She twisted and turned all night, unable to sleep as the moans and grunts went on and on and it took all her self-control not to curse at them out loud. When she did finally manage to fall asleep, her dreams were hauntingly vivid and she awoke with burning skin slick with sweat. In revenge for this stupidity, and for forcing the images plaguing her dreams upon her, Ursa rose early the next morning, tired and weary after having slept only a little and joined Iroh and Lu Ten for breakfast, making use of an invitation from Iron’s heir that she had never intended to ever take him up on. She smiled at the young prince as he jumped at her arrival, rattling off all the lessons he had learned and things he had done, and Ursa found Lu Ten's childish innocence and the laughter and mirth of Iroh's table much preferable to the heavy, laden silence spanning between her and her own husband, who she made sure to inform via message that she was with Iroh, “so he won’t worry”. She swore she saw Iroh raise an eyebrow at her when she mentioned this offhandedly, but despite the curiosity in his gold eyes, he said nothing about it in front of his precious son, something she was grateful for since she wanted to be more awake when she finally revealed to Iroh all that had happened in his absence. However, Lu Ten ran off to his tutors long before Ursa felt anything close to her usual self and she felt as if Iroh's eyes could read every challenge on her weary face as he appraised her across the table.

> “I can only assume that you and my brother are at war now?” The Crown Prince asked calmly, warming his tea with his hand and making steam rise from his porcelain cup.
> 
> “No, not at all.” Ursa replied simply, although her request for a more potent tea than usual slightly undermined her words, “I would never be so bold.”

Iroh stroked his beard as his gold eyes studied her face, but nevertheless he smiled and raised his cup towards her with a small nod of approval.

> “Well, boldness aside, I’m glad you’re not taking his behavior lying down.” He responded and Ursa felt her heart drop in her chest, knowing well that if Iroh, who didn’t readily partake in court gossip unless he was after something, had heard about Ozai's affairs, than likely the whole court had as well.
> 
> “So, you’ve heard he’s growing more brazen every day?” She muttered, feeling the tea work through her veins and give her the energy Ozai’s escapades had stolen from her.
> 
> “I had heard something to that effect, yes.” Iroh answered, his eyes sympathetic as he looked at her over his steaming and fragrant cup. "Although, I am curious about the escalation and public nature of it all."
> 
> “I think he’s doing it because I told him not to.” Ursa confided softly, although she had a feeling it might be more than just her threat, although she couldn't quite bring herself to fully explain what had happened between her and Ozai. For some reason, she felt that mentioning it out loud would somehow make the exchange more powerful, more real, and force her to acknowledge that _something_ had happened. “I caught him a few nights ago and told him I’d deal with him harshly if he did it again.”
> 
> “Ah, and here I was wondering why my brother was being so obvious when he could very easily be subtle about these things.” Iroh mused, stroking his well-trimmed beard thoughtfully, his gaze searching Ursa's face, like he could tell she was holding something back.
> 
> “So, he is doing it to spite me.” Ursa muttered, annoyance leaking into her words as she tried to keep her face calm and unreadable, "Nice to know I was at least right about that."
> 
> “Well, perhaps not, but that has always been his way. My brother has never outgrown such childish tactics and perhaps we would be too kind to assume otherwise here.” Her brother-in-law answered, almost absentmindedly glancing off towards a beautiful painting on a nearby wall, one of a dark volcanic island crisscrossed with glowing magma that she couldn’t help but feel she had seen before. “He also is the type of man who always rises to a challenge, which, even without details, it sounds like you certainly gave him." Ursa did her best not blush as she remembered how she had essentially tackled Ozai in her frustration and how bright his eyes had become as she forced him to look up at her. "So, in a sense, you gave him the perfect opportunity to prod at you, something his nature would not let him refuse.”

Ursa raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her brother-in-law, hoping annoyance would hide the heat rushing through her veins.

> “Are you saying this is my fault?” She asked darkly, something that caused Iroh’s eyes to widen and him to shake his head vehemently.
> 
> “No, no, of course it’s not your fault. You are well within your rights to demand he treat you with some respect," He quickly said, "and it’s his behavior that should be sneered at, but still, you are now involved in one of his games and it’s very rare anyone but him wins those.”

Ursa sighed at this, her irritation diffusing as she took another sip of her tea, caught between wishing she had held her tongue that night and wishing she had slapped Ozai hard enough to make him think twice about humiliating her again. Honestly, maybe she should have just kissed him, it would have been easy to given how close they had been and she had certainly been angry enough to use that for fuel instead of desire, but that was a horrible idea and probably wouldn’t have ended well either. The last thing she needed was her husband thinking that frustrating her would end in something enjoyable for him.

> “Did he play such games with you?” She asked lightly, first to drag her thoughts away from what would have happened should that moment have gone unbroken, but also because she hoped that perhaps Iroh could help her out of this.

Although a sick part of her did not exactly want to escape this situation and instead desperately wanted to somehow beat Ozai at his own game, perhaps even delighted in the idea of finally proving to him that he wasn't all powerful after all.

> “He used to, but he stopped after a while.”The Crown Prince answered, his eyes steady and kind, “the trick I learned was just not to play.”
> 
> “How do I do that?” Ursa questioned, leaning forwards slightly in her eagerness, “Do I not react? Do I just give up?”
> 
> “That depends on what you want, Ursa.” The elder prince answered, his voice laced with wisdom, “Do you want him to be more subtle with his affairs? Do you want him to be loyal to you-”
> 
> “I want him to respect me, and,” She stopped as she furrowed her brow, not quite believing what she had been about to say.
> 
> “And?” Iroh asked curiously, folding his hands in the sleeves of his robe as he appraised her.
> 
> “I want him to care.” She whispered, wondering when this had happened and why, or if perhaps she wanted more than that, but was unwilling to admit what she truly wanted to herself. In either case, Ursa took this as clear proof that her isolation in this place was taking its toll on her. “If I have to be married to him, I’d like him to at least work with me to make this situation acceptable.” Iroh smiled softly and gently removed his hands from his robe to take her right hand in his. “Is that even possible, Iroh?”
> 
> “I’d like to believe so.” The prince answered, squeezing her hand with his warm one, not burning hot like Ozai's, but warm and steady, a hearth fire instead of an inferno, a warm flame rather than a bright one. “He cared about our mother a great deal and there was someone-” Iroh stopped and shook his head, leaving something unsaid that Ursa could only imagine was about a person Ozai would have liked to marry instead of her, a thought she hadn't considered before. She knew well he didn't want to wed her, but she hadn't stopped to consider that he may have had an alternative bride in mind. Although, she supposed thinking about who that bride could have been and what she was like would do no one any good. “What I meant to say," Iroh began again, shaking his head slightly in self-rebuke, "was that he does have the capacity to care and respect you.”
> 
> “But how can I make him do either? He barely interacts with me and as recent events have shown, he’d rather spite me and prod me than ever try and make this work.” Ursa murmured, feeling suddenly very tired and very alone, "And everyone knows you can't make someone care about you anyways, so perhaps I've already lost the game by trying to play."

Iroh sighed and squeezed her hand once more and when she looked up into his gentle face, she felt her loneliness dissipate, if only a little.

> “Believe it or not, I think he already does care about you, although, he is doing a poor job of showing it. Clearly, his blatant disrespect managed to get a reaction out of you and he cares enough to try and get you to do, well, whatever you are blushing about.” Iroh murmured, releasing her hand to stroke his beard once more as Ursa felt her cheeks heat up. “Let's say something he found, for lack of a better word, exciting, so it is possible he's playing this game because he does, in his own strange way, care. Now, I know little about my brother’s heart, sometimes I fear he doesn't know much about it either, but as I told you before, if you want him to respect you, don’t let him bully you into submission. If you want his respect, fight him until he gives you what you want.”
> 
> "Spoken like a general." Ursa answered with a smile, but it quickly dimmed as something dark and heavy crossed Iroh's face and he looked back towards the volcanic painting once more.
> 
> "Well, for a better or for worse, I am a general," Iroh muttered, shoulders slumping for a minute before he seemed to shake himself and force himself to turn and smile back at her, "but that should serve us both well here, for after all, I've never lost any campaign I've embarked upon and I certainly am not going to let you lose to my brother."

\----------

In truth, the longer Ursa mulled and seethed over her situation, the more determined she was to make sure Ozai didn’t win this childish war. She wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted from her, Iroh had seemed to think he was hoping to somehow get a reaction out of her or lead to a repeat of what had happened during her and Ozai's confrontation, but no matter what he wanted, it was no longer important. All that mattered now, was what she wanted, and she was determined not to let him get under her skin until she got whatever that was. She barely batted an eye when he sauntered into their chambers the next morning with a very embarrassed courtesan on his arm and she absolutely refused to acknowledge the racket he continued to raise throughout the following nights. She refused to give him anything, not her attention, not her sleep, even if her dreams continued to spin beyond her control, and she knew, from the few sullen expressions she caught gracing his handsome face, that her stoicness annoyed him. Unfortunately, however, although she knew she was winning their little game she found herself faced with a new adversary in the entire court, which decided now was the time to develop a morbid fascination with her marriage, which made the whole thing just so much worse. Now, it was no longer two servants whispering to each other in an alcove, or some words overheard in a quiet hallway, but the entirety of the court speaking about her marriage, and the rumors seemed to follow her wherever she went.

> “Do you think the Prince is disgusted by her traitor’s blood?” She heard some minor noble whisper as she passed one afternoon, voice low, but definitely not low enough.
> 
> “I heard she’s an ice queen, it’s no wonder her husband prefers fiery, passionate concubines.” A magistrate muttered when he didn’t know she was around the corner after a court tea.
> 
> “It’s really a shame when a girl can’t please her own husband.” A lady-in-waiting to someone or other declared in the gardens, definitely knowing Ursa was there, but pretending she didn’t.

Ursa took this all in stride, even if sometimes she longed for fire of her own to burn their mouths shut once and for all, and treated these whispering courtiers like she treated her husband. After all, these vultures were like Ozai, they were playing with her, prodding her, hoping to find a weak spot in her armor and get the reaction they wanted from her. She refused to give these mongrels that satisfaction, not to mention the fact that she would shame her whole family if she gave any credence to these rumors by validating them with a response. However, as days turned to weeks, courtiers became more and more brazen and she became more and more worn down by their words. She stopped leaving her quarters as much, and when she did, she often did so in the company of Iroh, whose arched eyebrow proved enough to send most courtiers running, or her few friends, using their numbers as a shield from the hungry eyes and ears of the court. For a little while, this was enough to protect her, but she knew this wouldn't last forever, eventually someone would get cocky, or something would force the issue, and there would be no escape for her. Perhaps that's where Ozai's ultimate victory lay and once again, she was powerless to stop the onslaught coming her way. That inevitable confrontation came sooner than she would have liked and, naturally, was very public. She was at some court function, it was hard to remember exactly what it was for given how many she attended on a weekly basis, but at this particular one, where alcohol and bravado were both flowing in abundance, someone finally felt brave enough to throw her marital situation in her face.

> “Princess Ursa!” A noble she didn't know called as he approached her, a grin on his face that told her he was both young and cocky. “I was hoping to speak to you.”
> 
> “How nice,” Ursa answered, exchanging a glance with her companion, a pleasant woman named Maizu who was married to one of Fire Lord Azulon’s generals. “And you are?”
> 
> “My name is Risu, I’m the oldest son of General Chirok.” The noble answered with a smile that clashed with the cold and slightly cruel gleam in his dark eyes.
> 
> “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Risu,” She replied primly, wishing she could brush this boy away like the child he still likely was. “What did you wish to discuss with me?”
> 
> “Your marriage to Prince Ozai.” The boy answered with smug smile playing at his lips and a glance towards a crowd of relatively young-looking men, an act which reminded her too much of her school years and told her this was likely some stupid dare or bet. “I’m soon to be married myself, and I wanted to know how I could arrange a marriage as open as yours.”

Ursa felt annoyance and anger begin bubbling in her chest and she gripped her cup of sake tighter as she forced herself not to rise to this child’s jabs, although she realized, given that she was hardly out of her teenage years herself, she was probably not much older than him at all.

> “I’m afraid I don’t understand your question, what arrangement are you speaking of?” She asked politely, giving him a chance to stop himself before he made an unpardonable mistake.

She saw her friend looking between them anxiously out of the corner of her eye and she knew Risu was also uncertain because his dark eyes briefly flitted from her to that same group of stupidly grinning men. They all stared at him, like a pack of wolves, and his gaze seemed to harden as he turned back towards her.

> “Well, most men would love a relationship like yours," He answered after a minute with false casualness, "where they have a beautiful wife they can largely ignore when it suits them and get to screw all the women-”
> 
> “How dare you!” Maizu interrupted before Risu could finish, something Ursa was grateful for as she felt her throat tightening and heat begin rushing through her veins. She knew if Maizu hadn’t spoken, she certainly would have, and she didn't trust herself right now not to make this confrontation ten times worse, “do you know who you are talking to?!”

The room seemed to grow quiet as all eyes turned to them and Ursa inwardly cursed because she knew well that the eyes of a crowd would only escalate the boy's actions.

> “I know who I’m talking to,” Risu replied, seeming to grow bigger with bravado and Ursa, even with Maizu beside her, couldn’t help but feel so very alone as his and everyone else's eyes seemed to glare at her tauntingly. “But everyone knows the truth about Princess Ursa’s marriage, why shouldn’t she be open about it?” He smiled broadly, clearly feeding off the attention and Ursa had to fight every urge in her body not to slap this impudent brat across the face.
> 
> “You overstep yourself, sir.” She muttered coldly, narrowing her amber eyes at him, “my marriage is none of your concern-”
> 
> “It’s the whole country’s concern, my lady,” He interrupted, his teeth almost flashing ferally as he smirked at her, “especially if your husband begets more bastards than heirs-” 

Suddenly, the boy grew silent and his smirk fell from his face, replaced with a look of fear and horror. Ursa stared at him, angry, hurt, ashamed, and confused, but then she heard Maizu whisper,

> “Your highness."

And Ursa suddenly knew why the whole room had gone silent. She didn't turn around to face him and did her best not to stiffen as she felt an arm gently wrap around her and a warm hand come to rest right above her hip.

> “Prince Ozai!” Risu sputtered before falling to his knees, “I-”
> 
> “Hold your tongue.” Ursa heard her husband hiss menacingly and she finally turned her head slightly to look at him. She expected his usual mask to be in place, for his face to be cold, if perhaps disapproving, but she was shocked to see genuine rage flashing across his usually stoic and unflappable face. He was always so controlled, his face only twitching in surprise, annoyance, or only displaying the faintest hint of passion or happiness. Yet now, there was no doubt that he was angry and his beauty made that anger all the more terrifying. His gold eyes, usually so cold, so calculating, seemed to burn like two small suns as he glowered down at the boy and Ursa couldn’t help but take pleasure in watching her would-be-tormentor cower. “How dare you speak to my wife like that.” He finally said, his voice dripping with displeasure and anger in a way that promised pain. “How dare you speak to a Princess of the Fire Nation with so little respect or deference!”
> 
> “It was only a joke-”
> 
> “Silence!” Ozai yelled, his voice ringing around the still and very silent room, “I did not give you leave to speak!” The boy cowered lower as he began to shake, kowtowing so low that his forehead almost touched the ground. “You have no respect, you have no honor, and it seems it has fallen on me to teach you-”
> 
> “Please,” the boy begged, looking up in fear when he realized, even before Ursa, what was happening, “I meant-”
> 
> “I don’t care,” Ozai cut off harshly, still glaring menacingly at the shaking boy, “Agni Kai, at dawn tomorrow.”
> 
> “Please-”
> 
> “If you don’t want your family to suffer for your sins.” Ozai growled, gripping Ursa slightly tighter, something that both comforted her and seemed to make the tightness in her chest increase, “Be a man and accept.”

The boy looked up pleadingly, tears in his eyes, and Ursa could see that Risu wanted her to intercede on his behalf, to beg Ozai to let him go. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. For one, she didn’t trust herself to speak with her emotions rushing through her like a wildfire, but two, she also wasn't feeling particularly merciful today, especially after he had tried to disrespect her to impress his idiotic friends.

> “I accept.” The boy finally murmured and Ursa saw Ozai nod stiffly with a sneer before leading her away from the shaking form with surprising gentleness.

The crowd parted for them with wide, scared eyes, and Ursa felt strangely numb as Ozai escorted her from that damn room, arm still wrapped around her, but as soon as they turned away from that awful place and were in an empty hall she felt tears begin to prick her eyes and her shoulders begin to shake with silent sobs. Panic struck her as she realized there was no way she could stop the oncoming onslaught of tears and she quickly wrapped her arms around her husband’s muscled form and hid her face in his chest. Ozai stopped suddenly as she pressed herself against him and she could feel him tense in surprise as tears began streaming from her eyes, wetting the red silk of his robes and making her body shudder, something he could likely feel even with her face hidden.

> “Ursa-”
> 
> “Please don’t look at me.” She whispered against his chest, clutching the red silk of his robes tightly as tried to stop the endless stream of tears. “I don’t want your pity after everything you’ve done.”

Despite her words though, some part of her thought that might not be true. After all, she did want something from him, perhaps not pity, but definitely something she had been willing to fight a war for, which made her crying, a defeat in almost every way, all the more inexplicable. Perhaps that whole situation was just too tense for her after the last four months of fear and stress, although, she didn't exactly like painting this awful feeling as her just being suddenly overwhelmed. Perhaps, it was due instead to all those foreign and hostile eyes and how they had reminded her of how terribly alone she was here, so alone that she was hurt when Ozai, a man she hadn’t even wanted to marry, began his stupid war of spite. That explanation also stunk of weakness, but she certainly preferred it to the first one. Perhaps it was because Risu’s challenge to her authority and his cruelty had just confirmed that no one in this palace wanted her or cared about her unless they thought they could get some entertainment out of her. She felt herself beginning to cry harder despite her best efforts and hated herself for this weakness, for her inability to exert power even over herself. She could imagine Ozai would be contemptuous of this as well, could imagine his face now, his lips turned down slightly in disgust, his brow furrowed in annoyance, but suddenly, she felt his arms wrap around her and his beard lightly tickle her ear as he pressed a gentle kiss to her head.

> “I don’t pity you, Ursa,” Her husband whispered, his voice softer than she had ever heard it, “but I am concerned-”
> 
> “Don’t lie to me.” She muttered into his chest as another sob wracked her body. “You play games with me, you torment me, and throw the one thing I asked of you in our marriage back in my face! You don’t have to pretend you care now just because I’m crying.”

He sighed at her words as he held her a little tighter and she hated how comforted she felt by the warmth emanating from him.

> “I thought that's what you wanted,” He finally murmured against her hair, "that you wanted conflict, that you enjoyed it."

Ursa wanted to scream at him in that moment. How could he have thought that she wanted that?! How could he think she enjoyed his spite and cruel jabs?! If he was so concerned, why didn't he just ask what she wanted?! Yet, her throat closed as she sobbed and she didn’t say anything other than,

> “Make that brat pay.”

She swore she felt his lips smile as he pressed another kiss to her temple and she hated how comforted she felt by something so vicious.


	5. Victory's Beginning

Ursa didn’t attend the Agni Kai. Part of her wanted to go, actually more than just wanted to, but Iroh, who paid her a visit soon after Ozai left her in their rooms to go and seek out General Chirok for reasons Ursa quickly realized she didn't want to know, strongly advised against it.

> “If you are there and he makes it a show for you, that will only lead to further resentment against you.” Her brother-in-law counseled as he presented her with a package of her favorite tea as a sort of “feel better” present, which was sweet, but did little to soothe the vindictive streak within her attempting to rear its ugly head.
> 
> “But if it’s for my honor, should I not be there to watch if I want these courtiers to cease their idiotic speculation?” She murmured, knowing well her eyes were still red rimmed from her crying fit, but not caring much anymore.
> 
> “If you want these rumors to truly die, then no, you being there will be the opposite of helpful. Let it appear that you are reasonable, that your husband is defending your shared honor as he should, but that you are not a vindictive or power hungry wife who demands her husband hurt those who speak against her.” Iroh replied gently, “Especially since such rumours often spread beyond the palace and the last thing we need is whole Fire Nation becoming fascinated with you and your marriage to my brother.”

Ursa shivered at Iroh's words as she imagined how twisted and awful the rumor would be by the time it reached her parents in Hira’a and how horrified they would be if they heard she had somehow become a cold and ruthless woman who delighted in the suffering of those who offended her. Considering she had allowed herself to fall into this situation for her parents and her family honor, she shrank at the thought of bringing any further dishonor to them. After all, that would make all her suffering for nothing, and she refused to allow that to happen.

> “You’re probably right,” She conceded after a moment, swallowing the writhing need for revenge and forcing it to lie dormant once more as she forced herself to remember who she was, “and if Ozai agrees that is for the best, then I shall absent myself from tomorrow’s events.”

In truth, part of her had added this caveat because she thought this might be a way to circumvent the issue Iroh had so wisely pointed out. After all, if her husband insisted she attend, it wasn't as if she could refuse him and she imagined Ozai would object to her absence and demand she be there to watch him destroy Risu, especially since she had a feeling he had a vain streak as large as the Great Divide, but instead he agreed it was probably for the best, especially since:

>   
> “Without you there the boy will not be able to call on your mercy and will fully receive his punishment.”

She shivered at his words, although she couldn't quite force herself to believe it was only from fear, and didn’t object since her own vindictive streak was still calling out for blood and her husband's words helped mollify it. It also turned out that it was rather easy to skip the whole affair since the next morning she somehow managed to sleep through the Agni Kai, possibly because this was the first time she had gotten a full night's sleep in almost a week. The sun was already high in the sky when she pulled herself out of her chambers for breakfast, or perhaps lunch given how late in the day it was, but before she could wonder what had happened, where Ozai was, or even finish her meal, Maizu burst in with a grin that told Ursa all had gone well.

>   
> “It wasn’t much of an Agni Kai at all.” Her friend told her with a smirk, her gold earrings flashing as she sat herself down beside Ursa with a spiteful smile.
> 
> "Really?" Ursa inquired, doing her best to hide her interest as she continued to eat her breakfast. "What a surprise."
> 
> “Not really, Prince Ozai is a master and that brat was barely a bender at all, the outcome was clear from the moment the prince issued the challenge." Maizu answered contemptuously, taking a peace of fruit from Ursa's plate and popping it in her mouth. "It lasted perhaps twenty seconds at best. Your husband knocked Chirok’s welp to the ground with one blow and then hit him with a few more for good measure. The crowd, really, was more impressive than the battle itself.”
> 
> “Why do you say that?” Ursa asked as she pushed her plate towards her friend for further picking since the giddy in Maizu’s face over the violence had robbed her of her appetite, even though Ursa had to admit she was pleased that Risu had been so humiliated.
> 
> “Well, almost everyone who is anyone was there, even Prince Iroh, and he never attends these things unless it’s a particularly important match.” Maizu explained between bites of Ursa's abandoned breakfast and Ursa couldn’t help but furrow her brow in confusion at her friend’s words. “It’s actually probably a good thing he did since if the Crown Prince hadn’t been there, your husband would have killed the kid where he lay.”
> 
>   
> “Oh.” Ursa said, unable to say much else as she imagined how angry Ozai must have been at his brother’s intervention given how much he had wanted to make Risu suffer. “But the boy survived it?”
> 
> “Yes, the brat was allowed to keep his life, but will hold the scars of his disgrace for the rest of it.” Maizu commented, looking almost disappointed. Ursa nodded in response, forcing herself not to frown at her friend’s blood lust. Despite all her anger towards that boy and his cruelty, her mother had always taught her never to delight in the suffering of others, no matter how earned it was, and she knew it’d break her mother’s heart if she knew Ursa had abandoned her teachings, even in these trying circumstances. “I also heard that General Chirok was sent to the front, which is strange given his age. I can only imagine it's because the Fire Lord was none too pleased to hear about this whole affair.”

>   
> “Yes,” Ursa murmured, glancing towards the gardens where she saw two figures, who she quickly realized, with surprise, were Ozai and Iroh, standing close together beside a pond and conversing quietly, “I’m sure the Fire Lord was most displeased.”

Maizu continued talking, waxing eloquent about how Ozai should definitely have just killed the boy to save them all a lot of trouble, but Ursa’s thoughts drowned out her friends’ words as she studied the two Fire Princes. She sensed a plot here, a line connecting why they both hadn't wanted her at the Agni Kai, Iroh's strange attendance, and Ozai's acceptance of his brother's intervention, but she decided against thinking about it too much. After all, everything had worked out for the best: fear of Ozai's wrath would keep people quiet, the boy was burnt, but not dead, and Ursa was feeling better than she had in a long time. There was really no need to spoil such a glorious day with cynicism.

  
\-------------

Ursa had to admit it was much harder to ignore her suspicion when Iroh joined her and Ozai for breakfast the next morning, something she had never heard suggested, let alone imagined happening. She knew well that brothers did not get along, both of them had told her as much, but yesterday they had been whispering like conspirators in the garden and now here they were, sitting at the same table sharing a pot of tea, making what could pass as small talk. Their cordiality, along with how strangely pleased both of them looked, was more than a little questionable and she couldn’t help but keep glancing between them as if the air between their silk robes would somehow tell her what was going on.

>   
> “Are you feeling better today, Ursa?” Iroh asked kindly between bites of breakfast, finally breaking Ursa’s contemplation on how worried she should be about whatever was happening right now.
> 
>   
> “I am.” She answered with a smile, one that was almost genuine despite her wariness, “much better, actually.”
> 
>   
> “Well, hopefully you’ll feel even better after this.” Ozai commented, waving his hands towards two servants by the door.

Ursa furrowed her brow in confusion, but her mouth hardened into a line as a familiar form appeared in the doorway. However, before she had an opportunity to yell at him, Risu limped into the room and for the first time, Ursa saw the devastation her husband could cause. The right side of the boy’s head was bandaged, although his face was still visible and appeared largely unburned, and the right side of his chest and his entire right arm were covered in a patchwork of linen wrappings that she could only imagine were covering a quilt of impressive burns. She glanced from him to a smiling Ozai and she couldn’t help the flutter of perverse satisfaction that sprang in her chest as this once insolent boy knelt before her.

>   
> “I beg your pardon, Princess Ursa,” Risu murmured, dark eyes focused on the ground as he spoke, fear shaking his voice, “for any offense I may have caused you. I am an unworthy bug and should not have dared to speak to you, let alone talk to you the way I did. I am sorry. Please, forgive me.”

Ursa stared long and hard at the boy and knew well these weren’t his words. She glanced once more at Ozai and saw a sparkle of satisfaction glimmer in his gold eyes as he took a sip of tea and wondered if he or Iroh had written the script this boy was saying. She imagined that it had likely been Ozai, since she doubted Iroh would demand this current display, but it didn't really matter since she could see the servants by the door watching wide-eyed and knew that by mid-afternoon everyone would know what Risu had said, which she supposed was rather the entire point of this.

>   
> “Well, sweetheart?” Her husband asked, dropping an endearment she had never heard him say before, let alone to her, “Do you forgive this fool?”

Ursa looked back at the kneeling boy and sighed. No, she didn’t forgive him for what he had done, but it also was unfair to place all her anger on Risu's bowed and burnt head because he wasn’t the one that had really hurt her. Sure, he had been the mouthpiece, but it was the entire court that had been thinking what he had said and the fault really did lie with Ozai, although maybe he was trying to make up for it now by having this boy publicly kowtow to her like this and giving her the opportunity to show herself benevolent and kind. She imagined the latter part was probably more Iroh's idea than Ozai's, but nonetheless, she decided to appreciate the effort.

>   
> “I do, but don’t ever come into my sight again.” Ursa finally declared, turning away from Risu to look at Iroh, who nodded approvingly.
> 
>   
> “Well, that sounds like banishment to me.” Ozai said as he gestured towards Risu, “be gone from this place before mid-day or I’ll have the guards throw you through the gates, and believe me, they won’t be gentle.”

The young man nodded mutely and all but sprinted from the room. Ursa watched the boy go and as soon as the doors closed behind him, stood and walked to Ozai’s side, taking his hand as she knelt to be eye level with him. Ever so gently, she pressed her lips to his cheek, delighting in the genuinely surprised look that consumed her husband’s face as he turned to look at her.

>   
> “Thank you.” Ursa whispered, squeezing his hand.
> 
>   
> “If anyone bothers you again.” Ozai murmured, holding her gaze, “just tell me, I won’t have those dogs tormenting my wife.”
> 
>   
> “Or any member of our family.” Iroh added with a smile and Ursa wondered if she had imagined the elder prince winking at her as he contentedly drank his tea.

  
\----------------

  
Things changed after that day. A servant no longer came to bother Ursa if she wasn't awake precisely when her husband decided to dine, her schedule was no longer dictated to her, and histories were now submitted to her for sponsorship as well as poems and plays. However, the most obvious and welcome change, at least to Ursa, was that Ozai stopped bringing his briefs to the table every morning and, for the first time in their marriage, actually tried to have real conversations with her. At first, Ursa didn’t trust this newfound interest and regarded his inquiries with suspicion and his attention with wariness, but slowly, well, she supposed she grew more comfortable with him. Her answers became less guarded, her responses less token, and she found that he slowly began doing the same until they genuinely began to discuss their lives before their marriage. 

> “What did you like to do when you were younger?” Ozai asked her one morning, in a voice so casual and nonchalant Ursa almost forgot she should still be weary of him and his intentions.
> 
>   
> “I liked acting, I was in most of my town’s plays actually.” Ursa answered after a minute, knowing well that, even if he was trying to be more friendly, he probably wouldn’t want to hear about Ikem or what she had liked to do with him. “What did you like to do?”
> 
>   
> “I enjoyed perfecting my fire bending and studying-”
> 
>   
> “Those sound like things you were expected to do,” she interrupted gently, leaning forward slightly to better look into his face, “I was asking what you liked to do in your free time.”

Ozai frowned slightly at her words and glanced out the window towards the gardens, his brow furrowed and contemplative.

> “I didn’t have much free time,” He finally replied and she remembered that, although he was older than her by a few years, he was still quite young, “When I did I often used it to improve myself, mentally or physically.”

Ursa scrunched up her face at his words and couldn’t help but wonder if Ozai was like he was now, so stoic, so intense, and so hard to get close to, because he had never been allowed to lighten up, even as a child. She could hardly imagine what that must have been like, being the much younger brother of a prince as charming, beloved, and skilled as Prince Iroh and the son of a Fire Lord as revered and worshipped as Fire Lord Azulon. How high the standards must have always seemed to him and how large the margin of failure, the pressure of perfection must have been stifling. Not that such circumstances excused his earlier brashness or rude behavior, but, well, Ursa found herself more than willing to pity him and look upon him more sympathetically, or perhaps she was just looking for a reason to humanize him. Although, the potential reason why she would so badly want to excuse his behavior was not one she liked and one she firmly refused to acknowledge, even as she stared him now, almost tragically beautiful in the sunlight streaming through their windows.

>   
> “So you never had any fun as a child?” She asked softly, looking at him with slight sympathy, wondering if he was avoiding her gaze because she would see something in his eyes he'd rather keep hidden, "how sad."
> 
>   
> “I did have fun,” He retorted defensively, his head snapping back towards her with a fierceness that almost surprised her, “my mother used to take me to Ember Island and that was always enjoyable, not to mention I did have fun when I was sketching-”

She saw his eyes flare as he realized what he had just revealed and swore his cheeks pinkened ever so slightly as she raised a surprised eyebrow.

>   
> “You liked sketching?” Ursa inquired, trying her best not to smile even though his embarrassment was quite fun, perhaps even endearing, although she might not go that far quite yet, to witness.
> 
>   
> “It’s a discipline, as I’m sure you know.” Ozai muttered, glancing away from her again as his cheeks returned to their normal pale shade, “and it certainly helped my painting skills, my brother has one of my paintings, actually, and-”
> 
>   
> “Wait," She interrupted, drawing his gaze back to her as she remembered the striking painting hanging on Iroh's wall, "don’t tell me it’s that painting of that volcanic island? The one hanging so proudly in the Prince’s quarters?”
> 
>   
> “The one of Roku’s Island, yes.” Ozai answered softly and Ursa wondered why, of all the islands he could have painted, he chose that one. Surely, as a grandson of Sozin, Ozai would despise Avatar Roku and what he represented, and would not wish to immortalize the late Avatar's home in such a beautiful way. “You’re wondering why I painted that particular island, aren’t you?” He asked, breaking into her thoughts.
> 
>   
> “How did-” She stopped and shook her head as he smiled, torn between thinking his grin was charming and wanting to smack him for looking so smug about himself, “never mind, why then? It doesn't seem like the sort of subject you'd pick.”
> 
>   
> “How would you know, wife?" He asked her cheekily, "you barely know me."

She felt her eyes flare in slight shock and annoyance as she recognized her own words thrown back in her face and she sputtered a little as Ozai grinned at her over his cup of tea.

> "Well, whose fault is that?" Ursa finally replied and she watched his smile dim a little as something, she hoped remorse, but probably not, rushed across his face for the briefest of seconds.
> 
> "Point taken." Her husband conceded, placing his cup back down on the table, "but perhaps I can rectify that now, although, the painting has a story attached to it and-"
> 
> "Tell me," She interjected confidently, leaning her chin on her hands as she met his gold eyes across the table, "if there's a story, than it must at least be a little interesting."

His eyes seemed to a shine a little brighter as he held her gaze and, almost like that night when they had been so frustratingly close, the world seemed to vanish around her and there was only him and her, her amber eyes boring into his gold ones, and nothing else mattered.

> "When I was younger," he began, not breaking their eye-contact, his voice sounding slightly lower and more alluring than usual, "I was sent on a year-long search for the Avatar, as all princes of the Fire Nation have been since the he escaped my grandfather’s attack on the Air Nomads. I started my search there, at the place the last Avatar died, hoping that starting my quest from that end would provide a course for my beginning, but when we were just off the coast, the volcano erupted again, although not nearly as violently as the day our grandfathers last saw each other. It was a moving sight, terrifying and beautiful all at once, and I was amazed that even a Fire Lord and an Avatar could have withstood and battled such a force of nature, even if only for a brief period, and so I painted it, hoping that keeping this sight in mind and having some small part of that place that had killed an Avatar would help me find him and end the danger he still poses to our greatness.”

He reached out a hand as he finished his story and without even thinking she intertwined her fingers with his and she almost felt like she was touching the sun. His face was filled with a passion she had never seen before and lightning seemed to rush through her fingers as he gripped her hand slightly tighter. It was like his eyes were burning with their own light, his face glowing with pure power and charisma, as if every part of him was quivering with ambition, and Ursa found it almost intoxicating. He was like a flame in that moment, burning bright and dazzling, and for a second, Ursa felt as if she was being sucked into his dream, like their entwined fingers were a promise of some sort. It was suddenly so easy for her to understand why moths were so drawn to flames, for even a second in that brightness might be worth a thousand lifetimes. It passed quickly though, Ozai’s face returned to its almost stoic facade and Ursa pulled her hand from his grasp, ignoring how cold it suddenly felt without his touch. In a way, she was almost surprised that her hand hadn't been burnt from the intensity of the contact, but as she looked down at it, pale and pristine in her lap, she knew it was untouched, that Ozai's flames hadn't burnt her. Yet, she couldn't help the small fear that worked it's way through her mind, a fear that she might end up one of those burnt moths if she wasn't too careful.


	6. A Battle Won

Ursa would be lying if she said she didn't like the changes in Ozai's behavior. In fact, she might even go as far to say that she actually might enjoy his company. However, any joy she might have taken from her husband's apparent attempts to make things right was undermined by the political nature of it all. Everything, from his efforts to get know her to his public defense of her honor, seemed to be carefully constructed, expertly planned, and Ursa couldn't shake the feeling that everything Ozai did was largely for show and her happiness was only an added bonus. In the weeks that followed General Chirok’s disgrace and Risu’s banishment, Ozai began to return to their rooms earlier, making a large fuss as he walked through the door, very much alone, and often loudly asking her if she’d like to dine together and declaring how much he had missed her in the hours they had been apart. She'd always smile at this and she wasn't going to pretend that she disliked the growing time they spent together, but she also couldn't pretend that she didn't know that this was just another measure to counter the rumors. 

> "After all," She had hear a servant whisper, "the Prince can’t very well be continuing his affairs if he and his wife dine together on almost a nightly basis."

That, of course, was far from the truth as Ozai could easily be eating with her and then entertaining himself with concubines, but she forced herself to take heart in the fact that her marriage had now been dubbed too functional to be the center of court gossip and appreciate the company, and the excuse to avoid attending the dreary court dinners, which she still hated despite her growing group of noble friends.

> “You told me you liked to act,” Ozai said to her one night over a bowl of delicious steamed duck, “did you by any chance have a favorite play?”

Ursa couldn't help but be surprised at his question, her spoon hovering between her mouth and her bowl as she digested his words. Given that she had accepted his newfound attention as mainly for show, she hadn’t expected him to remember anything from their conversations. In fact, she had suspected he had quickly forgotten anything she said during his moment of brilliant ambition, but it seemed she had been wrong. She quickly put her spoon in her mouth to give herself time to think of an answer, briefly stuck between giving him the response she thought he wanted and the one she wanted to give. However, she was tired of everyone and anyone, including herself, only caring about what Ozai wanted, and looking into his face, he did appear genuinely interested, so she decided to take a chance and be honest with him as he had been with her about his paintings.

> “Love Amongst the Dragons.” Ursa answered softly, blushing when he arched an eyebrow at her, not quite enjoying this turnabout. She had much preferred when he was the embarrassed one and she was the one across the table trying her best to hide her smile. “I know, I know, it’s hardly an original choice, but it’s such a beautiful story and-”
> 
> “I know, I wasn’t judging,” He interrupted gently, smiling at her in a way that made him more than coldly handsome and made her heart flutter in her chest, “it was my mother’s favorite too.”
> 
> “Really?” Ursa asked.

Of all the things she had heard about Fire Lady Illah, she hadn’t imagined Fire Lord Azulon's late consort would be the type to like a love story, but then again, rumours were never the best sources when learning about someone’s character.

> “Really,” Her husband answered, looking genuinely sad for a minute, a look that made her, strangely enough, want to reach out and take his hand. She clenched the fabric of her dress under the table to stop this from happening, and inwardly reminded herself that Ozai did not actually deserve her sympathy. The moment passed soon enough though, as all the breaks in his facade seemed to, and his mask slid back across his face quickly enough, allowing Ursa to relax once more. “She thought it's ability to move the audience was nearly unrivaled." 
> 
> "Do you agree?" She asked, tilting her head slightly as she appraised his face. "Do you think it's ability to make the audience feel with the lovers is unmatched?"
> 
> "I haven’t seen it in quite some time," Ozai responded carefully, "so I don't-"
> 
> "Well, if that's the case, we should go see it sometime.” Ursa interrupted eagerly as she saw something pass over his face once more, a sliding look that softened his facade and made his eyes glisten. "If that's something you'd enjoy." She amended as she saw him lips frown slightly, gently reaching across the table as she spoke.

Both of them started at this action, their amber and gold eyes turning in surprise to stare at their hands for a moment of charged and potent silence. As always, their contact seemed strangely heavy with something and Ursa was torn between gripping his warm hand harder, or pulling away in trepidation from whatever was lurking in the lightning between them. 

> “I’m sure we could arrange a viewing.” Ozai murmured after a few more seconds, turning over his hand to clasp hers, something that seemed to send a jolt up her arm and make everything around her burst with detail.
> 
> “I would like that very much.” She replied and when he moved to retire for the evening, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek in farewell, almost tempted, in the soft moonlight and warm light from the torches, to ask to go with him.

She quickly stamped the idea out of her mind, reminding herself who he was, who she was, and that he was likely only doing this to try and rectify his past mistakes. However, her dreams that night were filled with a dance between dragons, red and blue, twirling through the sky together in a scene that was both magnificent and terrifying to behold, as much a dance as a battle, and she found herself unable to look away from the spiraling beasts and unwilling run as they spun closer and closer to her. Perhaps the dream was why she decided the next morning to throw her doubts to the wind and just take advantage of these good times while they lasted. Perhaps this abandonment of caution was also why the days that followed were filled with more laughter than she had experienced in months. Ozai, as it turned out, was quite the connoisseur of secrets and he knew every debased, dirty, and downright lecherous thing anyone and everyone had done in his father's court. He made Ursa gasp at tales of betrayal, laugh with stories of embarrassment, and blush at recollections of debauchery. And even better, he did take her to see the play, well, more like he brought the play to her. It turned out that the very morning after their conversation about "Love Amongst the Dragons", he had asked the Capital Theatre Guild to design a grand set in one of the many Palace feast halls. Somehow, he had managed to keep this a secret from her for the four days it took to construct the set, which was actually quite an impressive feat. How exactly he managed to keep a secret in a palace where privacy was almost non-existent was beyond her, but nonetheless she was thrilled when he surprised her with a private viewing. Really, his thoughtful gesture and obvious effort warmed her heart more than it probably should have. The masks themselves were exquisite, much better quality than the ones she had performed with in Hira’a, and although she knew the story by heart, she delighted in how the actors gave each scene a unique flare and how, even though she knew what was coming, she still felt her eyes water when The Dragon Emperor and his Empress finally embraced at the end. She enjoyed the experience even more because Ozai also seemed to like it and she was sure she didn't imagine the glisten of tears in his eyes as well. For the first time in their marriage, she saw him relax in the low light of the hall and when she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, she rejoiced in the warmth emanating from him as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. In that moment, when dragons danced before her eyes and she felt warm and content, she thought that maybe, just maybe, this marriage might be something other than a cage after all.

\-----------

Ursa's illusions were shattered a week later, something she probably should have been expecting since a man like Ozai was hardly one to be content with the playing the doting husband for long, especially once the novelty of it wore off. Yet, even her expectations of him slowly dropping the ruse were nothing compared to what he actually did, which was saunter into their rooms with a girl on his arm. She didn’t know if it was deliberate, she was inclined to think it was because Ozai was too calculating to leave anything to chance, but part of her, a part that she hated so very much in that moment, wanted to believe that it might be an oversight since she wasn’t, according to her schedule, supposed to be there. Technically, she was supposed to be leading a poetry reading in the gardens, but the news that General Chirok had died on the front had made sure she was not in the mood to recite poetry, especially the cheery, bland type she'd have to study in public, so she had sent Maizu in her stead. How Ozai could have predicted the general's death or her last minute decision was beyond her, again helping her hope he hadn't done this on purpose, but if he had, then he had gotten what he wanted because here she was, and there he was, and the poor girl he had brought with him was caught between his slightly shocked and annoyed face and Ursa’s angry glare.

> “Leave.” Ursa ordered the girl, doing her best not to sound angry at the incredibly embarrassed courtesan since Ozai was the only one here who truly deserved her anger. “Now!” The girl's dark eyes flitted between Ursa and Ozai, clearly wondering who she should fear more, but Ursa's narrowed eyes and clenched fists must have proved more intimidating than Ozai's icy glare because the courtesan wiggled out of his grip and slipped out of the room faster than Risu had when he fled towards his banishment. Ozai, strangely, and infuriatingly enough, did not object to the courtesan's dismissal, but did sigh heavily as he watched the doors close behind her, as if publicly spiting his wife (again!) was just a mild inconvenience. “How dare you!” Ursa hissed, feeling as if fire was licking her skin as she glowered at her husband.
> 
> “Is that a question or an exclamation?” Ozai asked with a forced calm in his voice, crossing his arms as he stared back at her. “Because I really don’t know what you were expecting-”
> 
> “I was expecting for you think with your head and not your cock!” She growled back, torn between storming at him or storming away. “Especially after everything that happened last time!”
> 
> “That won't happen again.” Ozai dismissed, moving from the door towards his room as if this was a matter of no importance. “Risu was an example that Iroh and I planned out perfectly, no one will say something like that to your face-”
> 
> “But what about behind my back, Ozai?! The least you could do is keep your affairs outside the walls I’m forced to live in!” She responded angrily, grabbing his arm as he passed her and gripping hard enough that she could feel her nails digging into his skin even through his silk robes, unwilling to let him walk away from this conversation as Iroh’s words echoed in her ears: _Don’t let him bully you into submission._
> 
> “The least I could do? I’ve already done you quite a service, Ursa.” Her husband, although maybe he didn't deserve that title right now, replied, irritation beginning to lace his voice as he narrowed his eyes at her slightly. His other hand suddenly grabbed the arm holding him, squeezing hard enough that five points of pain erupted across the flesh of her forearm, but she refused to let go, refused to yield now, no matter what he did. “You should be grateful-”
> 
> “I should be grateful? Grateful for what?!” She yelled back, ignoring the ache emanating from her arm, the knowledge that she was getting under his skin as she felt his arm stiffen under her tight grip making her pain seem small and unimportant.
> 
> “For your title-”
> 
> “Oh yes, thank you so much for giving me a title that protects me from nothing!” She cut back, glaring into his gold eyes with too much anger to be afraid as months worth of resentment pumped through her veins and something hot burned within her.
> 
> “For the luxuries this life provides you-”
> 
> “Luxuries!? Yes, thank you so much, you paragon of generosity, for making this purgatory, this cage, gilded!” Ursa parried, watching him lean closer as he grew angrier. “I would rather live as a peasant, Ozai, than have to suffer the torture and isolation I have endured in this luxurious pit of vipers!”

Ozai's eyes seemed to catch fire at her words as his facade began to crack under her verbal onslaught and angry passion began to shine from his face. 

> “For me accepting your wishes-”
> 
> “You never asked me about my wishes! How would you know what I want?!” She yelled back using her free hand to hit his chest for emphasis, something that barely phased him, but did force him to release her arm so he could stay her other hand. “You know nothing of what I want.” She repeated, glaring up at him as he stared fiercely down at her, so close she could almost feel the heat emanating from his skin, each of them holding the other in place, neither willing to risk letting go and giving the other the opportunity to strike or flee. “If you had ever bothered to ask me, you’d know what I want.”
> 
> "Fine, what do you want, Ursa?" Ozai spit, his grip tightening as she tried to yank her wrist free. "Do you want me to destroy anyone who speaks against you?! Well, your wish is my command. Do you want me to tell you when I visit the concubines?! Because that's no hardship on me and I can write you a schedule if that's what you desire! Do you want our marriage to be an endless war? Just say the word and-" Rage, hot and pure, rushed through her veins and she cut off his words as she finally managed to rip her wrist from Ozai's grasp and without thinking grabbed his face and brought her lips to his in a kiss that seemed to burn her lips with a beautiful, searing heat that made everything else fade away. Ursa was not inexperienced when it came to kissing, she and Ikem had kissed a great deal during their sweet years together, but it had been nothing like this, comparing them would be like comparing the small flame of a candle to a roaring bonfire. This kiss was as furious as it was passionate, their lips locked as anger and desire pulsed as one between them and she didn’t quite know where one ended or the other began. She felt his hands tangle in her hair, pulling slightly in a way that made her nerves sing and she was sure to bite his bottom lip as she finally withdrew her face from his, making him gasp slightly. They were both breathing hard, faces mere centimeters apart, and Ursa wondered if perhaps, when Ozai had said he thought she wanted conflict, if this is what he had been thinking of. A rage so passionate it bordered on desire, a lust so strong it pulled everything else, anger, resentment, bitterness, into it. “Do you want me?” He whispered, forehead rested against hers as his tongue licked away the small, crimson beads of blood she had drawn from his perfect lips.

> “Now that you ask,” She murmured breathlessly, feeling every part of her hum as the gold of his eyes were slowly consumed by the black of his pupils, “I do.”
> 
> “As you wish.” He breathed and then his lips crashed against hers again, burning against her own like pure fire.

Her hands moved from his face to his hair, pulling the crest from it and tearing the dark strands loose as his own deft hands traveled down her neck to wrap around her shoulders and pull her ever closer. She felt her body press against his, could feel the heat that fueled his bending pulsing beneath the silk and muscle between them and when they next parted, she couldn't help but wonder if he had won her, or if she, at long last, had won him.

\----------

> “I have terms.” Ursa murmured to him as she lay against his muscled chest, parts of her still aching pleasantly from their sated passion as her hand rested above his steadily beating heart and his fingers lazily traced circles on the soft skin of her bare back.
> 
> “Terms for what?” Ozai asked, tilting his head downwards so her amber eyes met his gold ones.
> 
> “For this.” She answered, running a hand down his chest and watching him raise an eyebrow, “for us.”
> 
> “Interesting,” Her husband murmured, shifting slightly in a way that made their naked legs brush beneath the soft sheets. “Name them.”
> 
> “If you want me to ever lay with you again, you are not allowed to bring your concubines here.” Ursa told him steadily, holding his gaze even as his eyes burned into her own. "Ever.”
> 
> “And if I do, you’ll refuse to screw me again?” He guessed, sounding more intrigued than annoyed despite his brief crudeness. “You’re certainly betting a lot on your skills.”
> 
> “Are you telling me my confidence is unfounded?” She teased lightly, lifting herself up to press a kiss to his sharp jaw before hovering over his lips, brushing them lightly, but pulling away before he could kiss her.
> 
> “No, but even as beautiful as you are-”
> 
> “Tell me, do those concubines and courtesans ever fight back?” Ursa interrupted lightly, playing with a piece of his coal black hair and tugging slightly to emphasize her words. “I imagine they don’t since even I was afraid of you and I was your wife. I can only imagine how eager they are to please you, how they must kowtow to you even lower than I did when we were first married. They must be so frustratingly docile, so predictable in their enthusiasm that they'd be terribly boring after what we just did.” She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled harder, pressing a hungry kiss to his lips before lightly biting on his bottom lip, “Tell me I’m wrong, husband.”
> 
> “Will you bite me again if I do?” Ozai joked lightly, smirking as she pulled his hair a little harder, looking terribly beautiful in the soft moonlight streaming across their bed.

How interesting that she had deemed it _theirs_ even though it was technically _his_.

> "No, I'll walk out of this room right now and never touch you again." She murmured, causing him to sigh as he lightly traced her jawline with a gentle hand.
> 
> “Well, I do suppose my father will eventually be wanting some more grandchildren and I can hardly have those without you.” Her husband replied, humming lightly for a moment as his other hand ran along her spine in a way that made her shiver pleasantly, but she refused to move or release his hair until he finally nodded with mock solemnity, “Well, to win the war I suppose you have to lose a battle or two, I agree to your terms.” He murmured and she allowed him to capture her lips in his, softer this time and far less intense than during their long-awaited consummation, but nonetheless she still felt a fire burning between them that had yet to be fully satisfied.
> 
> "I do have terms of my own though.” Ozai whispered against her lips when they part, one of his hands tracing her cheekbone.

Ursa pulled a way a little and stared down at him skeptically. She was tempted to refuse. After all, she had fought long and hard and she wanted her victory to be completely hers, a decisive victory, but she supposed Ozai was not the type to ever let himself fully lose a battle. No, he had to be able to find a way to win in every situation, to plan for another greater triumph when the current one was unattainable. Well, with that in mind, perhaps a small concession wouldn't hurt.

> “Very well, name them.” Ursa murmured, as the hand on her back traced over her shoulder to run along her collarbone, which had once been perfectly pale, but was now covered in love bites.
> 
> “I’d like you to come watch my matches.” He murmured, his hand moving down from her collarbone between the swell of her breasts, making her gasp slightly at the sensation, “Not all of them, of course, but the important ones.”

Ursa thought about it for a minute as his hand continued its slow perusal of her flesh, making her skin prickle and shiver. The request was hardly too much to ask. After all, it wasn’t as if her time was particularly precious or that she had none to spare. Really, it was no loss on her end if she attended some of his matches, and it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to see his famed skill in action.

> “I accept your terms.” She declared and captured his lips in hers, moaning as he turned them over to loom above her.

All further thoughts of terms and wars quickly flew from her mind as their kiss deepened and they were both consumed by their flames once more.


	7. Renegotiation

Perhaps the most surprising thing, although perhaps it was only surprising because Ursa had accustomed herself to expecting only the worst from Ozai, was that he actually kept his word. From that night on the lingering scents of exotic perfumes no longer clouded the air, Ozai no longer vanished without any explanation, and the only marks marring his perfect skin, which he proudly wore without even the barest attempt to hide them, where the ones she had given him herself. At first, his brazen display of their marital activities had seemed both unnecessary and slightly shameful, an embarrassing display that made people whisper about them and blush when they met Ursa's eyes. However, she quickly realized that, like almost everything Ozai did, it was a strange sort of power play used to boost his status amongst the men of the court, and even better, it was something she could use as well. After all, people were fascinated by what happened behind closed doors, but being confronted with that knowledge face to face had the delicious ability to make people incredibly uncomfortable, and she found that weaving innuendo into her conversations made dull court affairs just so much more entertaining.

> "My mother always said that the best way to a man's heart was through his stomach." A noble lady told Ursa at some official tea or another, her eyes slightly contemptuous as she gazed at the dark splotch under Ozai's jawline. 
> 
> "How interesting, did your mother never receive proper geography lessons?" Ursa asked back sweetly as she took a sip of her warm tea.
> 
> "Excuse me?" The noble lady sputtered, looking so ridiculous Ursa wished she could remember her name so she could laugh about this later with Maizu.

Ursa thought it might be Ozila, although she was a little to irritated at the woman's condescension to really try and remember it, even if it had the potential to be an entertaining story later.

> "Well, there are several ways to a man's heart, and although I've heard the head is always a possibility, the tried and true path is quite a bit lower than the stomach." Ursa responded casually, hiding her grin behind her cup as the woman turned the color of her crimson robes and excused herself with an offended sniff.

Such interactions were the only thing that really made these dull events worth attending, although Ursa had to admit most of her innuendos flew right over people's heads or were ignored on the basis of decorum or Ursa's supposed innocence, but the faces of those who managed to grasp her true meaning and couldn't stop themselves from reacting gave her a sense of power she wished she had known how to find in the early months of her marriage. Although, she doubted she would have been brazen enough then to risk shattering the veneer of politeness that covered every interaction in this wretched court then. She probably wouldn't have even risked it now if she hadn't discovered it was a way to shock even Ozai, whose facade, usually so masterfully composed in public, could be rattled with a well formulated, if horribly risque, remark.

> "I'm afraid I've never really become accustomed to women with sharp tongues." A visiting commander said to Ozai and Ursa one evening after a long, boring conversation about the glory days of courtly honor that had nearly put Ursa to sleep.
> 
> "Oh really? Do they make you uncomfortable?" Ursa asked sweetly, leaning her head against Ozai's shoulder with faux innocence as she met the commander's dark eyes.
> 
> "Not exactly, I suppose I just feel there's something unfeminine about them, uncultured perhaps, that makes me avoid their company if at all possible." The man answered with a lazy shrug.
> 
> "Now that's understandable, I've heard that sharp tongues can leave just the most painful cuts and I can't imagine I'd ever seek out that discomfort willingly." She answered casually, seeing Ozai turn to glance at her out of the corner of her eyes with a smile he only wore during these few, precious moments, "especially to so sensitive a place as your-"
> 
> "My lady," The commander interrupted, eyes wide and face almost angry in its outrage, "are you suggesting-"
> 
> "pride, sir." Ursa finished with a smile that would have probably convinced the commander of her innocence if Ozai hadn't started laughing, which quickly drove the fuming commander away. Rumors had spread quickly after that the Fire Princess was not as innocent and honorable as she seemed, but Ursa found she didn't care much about their twittering, especially when a causally threatening comment about the price the last man who spoke against her reputation made those rumours dissipate in a heartbeat. 

Perhaps it was those moments though, when Ozai's eyes would flare and spark with lust and he would smile just for her, that made her like how the love bites marked him as hers and made her care not for the reputation she might be giving herself, although she told herself it was mostly for the power and not mainly for that other reason. Perhaps she was also surprised because she had genuinely expected him to at least try and circumvent their deal, especially given the last time she had tried to interfere with his more illicit activities, but she never saw him leer or even glance at the courtesans again, except to make her laugh or blush by whispering in her ear who had visited that specific woman and how much they had paid for the honor. Part of her thought his lack of interest might be because of what she had said to him that night. After all, it was probably no fun screwing someone who felt compelled to please you in every way, but she also, perhaps a bit vainly, liked to think it was because she kept him more than satisfied, perhaps eliminating the need for courtesans and concubines all together. She didn’t bed Ozai out of love for him, of course, although she knew that it would be very easy to fall in love with a man like Ozai, a prospect that had begun to worry her more than a little, but despite her fears she allowed herself to have fun and sate herself as she had longed to in her dreams for so long. It also helped that Ozai was more than happy to indulge her desires, ensuring she didn’t have to fake anything as she had long ago feared, being quite a bit more attentive than she had anticipated and generous in ways that made her, sometimes, forget that he wasn’t her first, even if she had now accepted that he would almost definitely be her only partner for the rest of her life. Of course, to ensure the longevity of their deal, she kept her word as well, and when his next match came, not an agni kai, but a simple spar, she walked to it on his arm and observed his bout from the place of honor. Ozai was sparring with a master, a man who still appeared strong and stocky despite his greying hair and the master’s skin was as unmarred and unburnt as Ozai’s own, something that signaled this opponent’s skill, which really made their match all the more glorious to watch. Their flames clashed in beautiful infernos, twirling and blazing together in blasts of light and heat, and she couldn’t help but compare how the flames fought and twisted together to her and Ozai, although she didn’t know if that was exactly a good thing. After all, the fire was gorgeous to behold, but if not for the benders' skills, everyone and everything around them would have been burnt, blackened and destroyed, and it was probably a bad sign that Ursa compared her marriage to such destructive brilliance. However, such worries were easy to forget as the warmth of the fire kissed her skin and gold and red danced before her eyes. It was also easy to admit that of the two, her husband was definitely the more beautiful fighter. The power radiating off Ozai was almost intoxicating, his every move perfect and languid, and the fire that swirled around him glittered with accents of gold that made it seem like sunlight brought to earth. He was utterly captivating to watch and she was almost sad when he won and the glorious flames dissipated in the morning air, another thing Ursa tried not to think about too much, especially when she had the role of a doting wife to play. She rushed to Ozai as soon as he was off the field and embraced him passionately despite the sweat glistening on his bare chest, enjoying the surprised looks from the onlookers almost as much as the taste of his lips.

> “That was amazing.” Ursa whispered as they broke apart, laughing as he twirled her around. “You won the day.”
> 
> “In more ways than one.” He murmured in her ear, glancing towards the onlookers who were already whispering about this very public display of affection.

By mid-afternoon, the news was all over the palace that the Second Prince and his wife were almost sickeningly in love and Ursa was surprised, and a little worried, that she couldn’t immediately say it wasn’t true.

\--------------

> “It’s nice to see you so happy, Ursa.” Iroh told her as they sat in their favorite pavilion, a smile on his face that didn’t quite match the weariness dulling his eyes.
> 
> “It’s nice to be happy, Iroh.” She answered, doing her best to hide her concern at his pallor and the faint dark circles under his eyes behind a grin as she poured him a cup of tea. “And I fully admit that the happiness in my eyes and on my face right now is all because of your return.”
> 
> “Careful, Ursa, you’ll give me a big head with talk like that.” Her brother-in-law replied, his every word seeming strained and tired in a way she had never heard from him before, “and you’re doubly spoiling me since this tea smells absolutely delicious. Is it your creation?”
> 
> “I can’t take all the credit,” She replied, observing him wince slightly as he shifted in his seat, “I made this blend with your son and we spent many hours honing it so it’d be perfect for you return, so I hope you like it.”

Iroh beamed at this, his face softening for the first time all afternoon and she felt a small wave of relief as she watched the the sparkle return to his eyes for a moment as he took a sip. He hummed lightly as he gently wafted the steam rising from the cup towards his face, inhaling deeply as his eyes drifted closed for a moment of thoughtful contemplation.

> “It’s more earthy than I was expecting, but the underlying sweetness and hint of jasmine are a good balance,” He murmured, taking another sip, “it seems my disciples are well on their way to learning the sacred arts-”

His words were slightly cut off as he grimaced and he suddenly moved to put down his cup, his shoulders tensing as his usually serene brow furrowed and Ursa took his hand with concern, growing even more worried when she felt how cold it was.

> “Are you all right, Iroh?” Ursa asked gently, stroking his hand with her thumb, searching for the warmth she knew should be there, but was strangely absent, almost as if it had been sucked out of him. “Your hands are so cold-”
> 
> “I’m fine, Ursa,” The Crown Prince interrupted quickly, his voice slightly sharp as he said this obvious lie, “ just a little tired. This last campaign was long, hard, and well, particularly brutal for all involved.”

A dark shadow crossed his face at his words Ursa felt a shiver run up her spine, perhaps more scared of Iroh’s guarded, weary visage and unwillingness to admit he was clearly unwell than she had been in a long while. Clearly, something terrible had happened, even the most obtuse observer could see that, and it was obviously something so heavy, so draining, so heartbreaking, that it had even unsettled the unflappable Dragon of the West. Part of her wanted to know, probably the same part of her that was so drawn to Ozai despite the danger lurking all around him, but another part, the rational one she assumed, wasn’t sure she wanted to.

> “I’m sorry to hear that.” She placated, squeezing his hand, trying to convey her support and affection even if her words were inadequate. “If there’s anything I can do-”
> 
> “No, no, this is not the place for such things.” Iroh dismissed, squeezing her hand back even as a darkness, writhing and dangerous, loomed in his eyes, and for the first time in her nearly year long marriage, she saw a resemblance between Ozai and Iroh, and that was more unsettling than even the worries currently gnawing at her. “I am home now, my son is well, you and my brother are thriving. Not to mention the fact that I long ago swore never to bring the war here, so let us speak of happier things.”

Ursa furrowed her brow at him, torn between letting him run from whatever was praying on him and forcing him to reveal it so he could free himself of it. The fact that his hand hadn’t grown any warmer in her grip certainly pushed her towards the latter, and of course, the truth that allowing him to pretend he wasn't suffering would be incredibly unfair. Iroh had helped her through so much, been her staunchest ally, her most loyal protector during those miserable months of loneliness, and she knew it would be wrong and selfish to repay his kindness by leaving him to face his pain alone.

> “Iroh," Ursa began softly, doing her best to keep her voice light and comforting despite the danger she sensed in his guarded and strangely unfamiliar expression, "if you need to talk-”
> 
> “No,” He interrupted firmly, his voice hard and commanding and his gold eyes flashing with the same perilous power Ozai constantly displayed, “I do not, so don't press!”

Ursa swallowed nervously under his almost angry gaze, wondering who this was sitting before her. It was easy to forget in the face of Iroh’s charisma and charm how much power lurked beneath his calm and deceivingly peaceful facade and how much danger he hid behind his love of tea and apparent eccentricities. When they had previously spent time together, discussing literature and art, Ursa had found that she could hardly picture him as a general most days, but now, as his eyes blazed before her and his face seemed to become hard and sharp, she found she could easily imagine him on a smoking battlefield. She could see him leading armies through barren landscapes and destroying cities, and that warrior was not the man she knew nor one she wanted to. She felt her hand release his almost listlessly and allowed it to retreat back in her robes, caught between her guilt at letting her fear hold her tongue and her trepidation about the man sitting before her. Iroh’s eyes seemed to study her movements, sharp and almost all-seeing, and Ursa wondered if his troops felt as exposed and frozen as she did under his gaze. Finally, after a long moment, he sighed and his face softened, making the resemblance to Ozai negligible once more.

> “That was ungallant of me, please forgive me.” Iroh murmured apologetically, gazing at her with some strange, guilty sorrow that seemed to contradict the cold, ruthlessness she had just seen.
> 
> “There’s nothing to forgive.” She interjected softly, although she didn't quite know if she'd ever look at him the same way, “if you need to keep your business to yourself, I shall respect your wishes, but if you ever do need to talk, I am here.”

He smiled at her words, looking relieved enough at her forgiveness to worry Ursa even more, but before she could figure out how to help him, or if she wanted to, he took the opportunity to change the subject, smirking as he said,

> “So, I could hardly believe my ears when I heard upon my return that you and my brother have become fiery love birds and that you, dearest Ursa, are now famous for your almost daring wit.”

Ursa felt her face pinken at his words, but was less annoyed than she might usually have been as she watched a true smile crack across his face. Perhaps what he did truly need was just to forget the war for a little, although Ursa doubted that was a healthy way to structure your life. After all, didn't she know well from her marriage that pretending a problem or hurt didn't exist was bound to end in pain?

> “I’m sure the rumors are exaggerated.” She replied, deciding to humor the crown prince, both for herself and for him, as Iroh raised a knowing eyebrow at her.
> 
> “Rumours always are, but these ones seemed quite close to the truth from what I saw at training this morning and from what Commander Ira told me.” He answered with a sly sip of his tea and Ursa knew her face was probably burning. “Ozai had quite a few pretty marks and one or two scratches that he seemed strangely proud of and the good commander said you two had shared an interesting conversation about sharp tongues which he thought perhaps untoward, although he would never dare to suggest as much with my brother in close proximity.”

Ursa inwardly cursed Ozai’s preening even as she smiled at the poor commander's whining, wondering perhaps if she should enjoy people talking about how in love she and Ozai were, or if she should be concerned about her growing noteriety.

> “Well, we ended our war and I suppose he’s enjoying the terms of our peace.” Ursa murmured, relieved that Iroh seemed to be falling back into his jovial serenity, even though she wondered if she would ever be able to forget that terrifying look in his eyes. “And showing off his trophies to emphasize how well we get along now, which I can't stop him from doing, but will certainly take advantage of his vanity when given the opportunity."

Iroh laughed at this, a nice thing to hear after that moment of frightening intensity and he raised his cup at her with a knowing smile.

> “To peace at last.” Iroh declared, winking at her.
> 
> “To peace at last.” She echoed, tapping her cup against his before they each took a sip. “Although,” she murmured as she put her cup back down and licked the last droplets from her lips. “I don’t know if I trust it to last.”

Iroh raised an eyebrow at her words and folded his arms sagely in his robes, appraising her carefully over the table.

> “And why is that?” He inquired, gold eyes studying her face.
> 
> ‘Well, I suppose I don’t trust him, or myself, to keep whatever consensus we’ve reached alive. What if he gets bored with this?” She asked, forcing herself to sound casual, even though these were fears that had been gnawing at her for some time, “What if I grow tired of his attention? What if _something_ changes and this relationship becomes, well, more than what it is now, but it turns out all this happiness, all this joy, was only an illusion?”

Iroh arched another eyebrow at her words and leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the pavilion.

> “You’re afraid that _something_ will change and it’ll turn out that your happiness wasn’t real?” Her brother-in-law asked, emphasizing the word as she had and making her blush. “What do you mean by _something_?”

Ursa swallowed and briefly looked off towards the gardens, wondering the same thing. She wanted to mean the circumstances, of course, since those fears would be easy to explain away. What if the game changed? Well, she supposed she'd have to learn how to alter the new rules to her advantage. What if someone new came and ruined the carefully balanced peace? Well, that person would have to be dealt with one way or the other. What if Fire Lord Azulon decided to send Ozai off to the front? Well, she'd have to live with it since the Fire Lord was the one person neither she nor Ozai would dare to defy. All of those fears would be justified and she could even say most of them out loud without feeling like a fool, but she, and probably Iroh from the way he was looking at her, knew that she wasn’t talking about circumstances. No, the _something_ she was worried about was what would drive the fears about those changes in her life and was what would make the realization that it had all been a lie devastating and heartbreaking to endure. _Something_ was what she was too scared to utter out in the open lest it make it true.

> “I’m not sure.” She finally murmured, looking down at her folded hands. “I just know that I don’t trust us to last and it weighs on me sometimes.”
> 
> “Hmmm, I think I understand,” Iroh mused gently as she felt his eyes study her down-turned head, “and although I don’t think any words can help your situation, perhaps I can give you some advice that will touch on your _something_ and help alleviate your fears?”
> 
> “I always welcome your advice, Iroh.” She answered, sparing a glance up and seeing a strange look on his face, a mix of concern and affection that made her worry her fears might be more reasonable than she had been willing to accept.
> 
> “Well, your distrust is completely understandable, my brother is, after all, a repressed hothead, fixated on appearances, obsessed with pretenses of honor, and consumed with a lust for power and control that rivals even my father’s, and he’s certainly not above forging a relationship if he thinks it’s necessary to achieve his goals.” Iroh told her gently and Ursa felt her chest tighten at his words and a strange anger rise in her stomach, gnashing its teeth and demanding that Iroh refute his claims, but she forced it down. 

Just because she didn’t want to hear what Iroh was saying didn’t make it any less true. Actually, the fact that she didn't want it to be true probably added credence to his words that she shouldn't ignore.

> “So, my marriage and all the progress I've made really could be just a lie, nothing more than a mirage in the desert?” Ursa questioned, seeing a glimmer of pity in Iroh’s eyes that made her almost feel like crying, although she wasn't sure exactly why. After all, she wasn't in love with Ozai (right?) and she would never give him the satisfaction of crying over him. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be worried about that _something_ then since I could never-”

She cut off her words and shook her head, feeling strangely cold now despite the sunlight all around her.

> “Well, no, even with all those flaws, my brother could be an easy person to love, I'd give you an example, but I doubt you want to hear about her." Ursa furrowed her brow at Iroh's words, wondering if he was bating her to press about whatever woman he had just referenced, but she decided not to. The last thing she needed was to have someone that Ozai could pretend she was jealous of.
> 
> "You're right, I don't." She answered firmly and she swore Iroh smiled approvingly, although why he'd approve of willful ignorance she had no idea.
> 
> "In any case, Ozai, like us all, is a myriad of contradictions, and with the bad, comes some admirable qualities as well. He is dedicated to what he cares about, he has endless determination, he is, believe it or not, intelligent, and when he thinks to, he can be observant, caring, and loving. You, Ursa, can bring out the good, as far as I can tell, and, well, you should be concerned about that _something_ given the bad. However, there is a chance with the good that whatever you feel, whatever you think is there, might indeed be real.” 

Ursa sat in silence for a moment as she mulled over his words, caught in the contradiction of his advice and in the fact that she didn't quite believe he was only talking about Ozai, especially after what she saw earlier this afternoon. Perhaps Ozai wasn't the only one with a dangerous side that made loving him perilous, although, Ursa did suppose that was a mystery for another time.

> “That’s an answer in contradictions, Iroh.” She finally replied, feeling her heart grow heavier as Iroh sighed and glanced off towards the garden for a moment, “Your advice is that it might be false, but then you say it might be real, it's like a Spider Snake eating its own tale, going round and round forever.”
> 
> “Of course, who said love would ever be crystal clear, Ursa? It is a fickle and illusive emotion and people overlook love all the time, or mistake another emotion like desire for it. I cannot say whether your _something_ will ever be truly real, but I can counsel you that it can be, which I hope alleviates your fear that it will never be.” He answered, a dark cloud seeming to pass over his face as he stroked his beard, which she noticed was starting to become laced with grey, “however, I do suppose I have to add that love is like fire, it burns bright and beautiful when it is steady and warm, but when uncontrolled, unsteady, or unbalanced, it can scorch and destroy. I want to say that your and my brother will always have the steady kind, but-”
> 
> “But what?” Ursa murmured, forcing herself not to immediately lash out against the word 'love', since denying she loved Ozai would only make Iroh think she really did, but she already suspected that she and Ozai would never be a what Iroh called a 'steady flame', no matter what she, Iroh, or anyone else wished.
> 
> “But, well, neither of you are a candle flame. You both are volatile creatures and when two infernos meet there is always a chance they will burn each other out, and I can’t help but fear that should you and Ozai ever develop your _something,_ that it will consume both of you, and if it falls apart, it will burn everyone and anyone around.” He replied and Ursa felt her face fall and eyes turn back towards her lap.

She didn’t want what Iroh said to be true. She didn't want to think that this _something_ could be love, or that she could lose control of her heart to a man like Ozai, but unfortunately, his worries did sound well-founded, and she couldn't even force herself to think he was wrong about love, about Ozai, or about what she and Ozai might become. Already their relationship seemed to be built on conflict, a long war, an unsteady peace. How would that last in the long term? Would the fire that burned between them now, so intoxicatingly strong and all-consuming, burn out? What would happen if it did? Last time the court had turned against her, Ozai had helped her, although she still didn't quite know why, but who would protect her and the people she loved should Ozai be her enemy? She wanted to think Iroh, but what if he wasn't here? She was pulled from her thoughts by a warm hand on her shoulder and she turned her head to see Iroh was kneeling beside her, face kind and eyes comforting, just as she had always known them to be before today.

> “Well, I guess it's pretty clear I shouldn’t love him then.” She whispered, uttering the word for the first time out loud in slight jest, although she, and Iroh, already seemed to know she wasn't really joking.
> 
> “Perhaps, but we cannot control who we love, Ursa,” The crown prince responded kindly, squeezing her shoulder, “but if you’re asking for more advice, which you must forgive me for inundating you with this afternoon, I think you should ensure that you don’t let Ozai consume you and, as any good warrior, prepare for the worst.”

Ursa nodded at his words, but in truth, she wasn't sure exactly how she could follow his advice. On the political side, she would have to build up her own friends in court, create her own network of allies who could help her politically should Ozai ever decide he wanted a public war rather than a private one, and she would have to build up her own channels for gaining information and for discovering secrets in this palace of sin, which were sometimes more powerful weapons of steel or the might of benders. Yet, she also needed to be able to defend herself physically, and that was where the challenge lay. She was no bender, her hands were cold and the only sparks she had ever felt in them were when she was feeding off of Ozai’s fire. Yet, there had to be a way, a way a non-bender like her could learn to defend herself against even someone as powerful as her husband. She had her mother’s teachings, and poison was always a reliable way to deal with undesirable things, but poison couldn’t stop a strike, or a flame. No, she’d need something faster and sharper than the deadly kiss of herbs and salves, and something told her that protection lay in steel.

\------

> “Ozai, I have a request.” Ursa told her husband that evening, shattering a companionable silence that had almost persuaded her to keep silent.
> 
> “A request for what?” Her husband replied, looking at her over his book as she came to stand in front of him, forcing herself to look confident and coy since she had long ago learned that he appreciated gall above all else.
> 
> “Something I don’t think you’ll like.” She responded, taking the book from his hands and seating herself on his lap, steadying herself on his strong shoulders as she gazed into his eyes.
> 
> “Evidently since you’re trying to distract me.” Ozai answered with a smirk as his hands came to rest on the swell of her hips. “What is it, Ursa?”
> 
> “I want to learn how to use duel swords.” She replied steadily, refusing to break their gaze even as his eyes briefly blazed and he arched an unimpressed eyebrow at her.
> 
> “You want to what?” He asked in a dangerously light tone, although he had heard her plainly enough and clearly was just trying to get her to retract what she had said.
> 
> “I. Want. To. Learn. How. To. Use. Duel. Swords.” Ursa repeated slowly, wrapping her arms around her neck to bring their faces slightly closer despite his frown.
> 
> “You have got to be joking.” He responded, his grip tightening slightly and sending arcs of pain and pleasure up her back.
> 
> “Do I look like I’m joking, husband?” She asked, brushing her nose against his lightly as her amber gaze burnt into his gold one.

He narrowed his eyes and suddenly he leaned forward, forcing her to grip him tightly as he held her suspended between his legs, with only air between her and the floor, causing her stomach to clench with that familiar sensation and fear of falling.

> “You know well, Ursa, that such a thing is ridiculous to ask.” Ozai whispered his grip loosening so she felt dangerously close to toppling to the ground. “Unless you wish to join the army, only royal benders are allowed combat training and my father would rage against it the first time someone happened to mention it to him.”
> 
> “I don’t care what your father thinks,” She murmured back, digging her nails into his robes and flesh as she held onto him, unwilling to fall as she fearlessly met his annoyed gaze. “That’s why I’m asking you, not him.” Her words were borderline treasonous, just the wrong side of daring, but she knew it’d play into Ozai’s ego, into his need to be just as great, if not greater, than his father and brother. He met her eyes as he continued to hold her in the air between him and the floor a foot or so below them, just long enough to make her wonder if he was going to try and drop her, which would have ended disastrously for him since she was fully prepared to drag him down with her if he decided to, but after a long moment he pulled her back up. This wasn't exactly a gentle action, then again, gentle was hardly Ozai's style, and she fell forward so quickly that she barely stopped herself from smacking her forehead against his, leaving their faces dangerously close, close enough to kiss, close enough to kill, and she knew one wrong move would knock this whole conversation off course.
> 
> "Dangerously daring, wife." Her husband murmured, his lips ghosting against hers for a second, seeming to burn in the stillness of the room all around them.
> 
> “Always," Ursa whispered, tracing his face with her nose as he hummed lightly, feeling one of his hands move to her face and his thumb burn against her cheek, "but are you going to deny me, husband?” 
> 
> “That depends on why you’ve suddenly decided you want to learn this particular skill so badly and why you went to my brother for advice on it.” He replied and Ursa felt her eyes widen as he leaned back slightly to appraise her, the air between them growing colder as he withdrew.
> 
> “How did you know Iroh was involved?” She inquired, not really caring, but needing to buy herself time to think of an answer that would lead Ozai to giving her what she wanted.
> 
> “Duel swords are a particular favorite of his and it’s what he suggested I learn when I wanted to expand my combat abilities outside of my fire bending.” Ozai answered simply, “but still, why do you want to learn?”
> 
> “If I say I’m just interested in the art of it, would you believe me?” She teased, tilting her head slightly with a smile of faux innocence, one that would have fooled him a few months ago, but one she highly doubted would work now.
> 
> “Only if I was a fool.” He answered, although she saw a smile playing at his lips that made her feel a little more confident.
> 
> “How unfortunate for me that you’re not.” She commented, watching him smirk before sighing and taking one of his hands in hers. “I want to learn because I’m worried.”

Ozai furrowed his brow as their fingers intertwined, leaning forward slightly to better appraise her face.

> “Worried about what?” He asked and Ursa was tempted to say that she was worried about him turning on her, of her having to defend herself or any children they may have from him should whatever was forming between them turn out to be a lie, but she knew that would achieve nothing.

No, Ozai wouldn’t like the idea of her challenging him like that and would hardly want to sharpen talons that might one day lodge themselves in his flesh. No, she’d have to play this from a different angle, one that didn't make her seem like a threat, well, at least, not a threat to her husband.

> “I’m worried that one day you won’t be around to protect me.” Ursa finally whispered, looking down at her lap, “and I worry that should I ever need to defend you or any children we may have, that I would be unable to protect them as I am.”

This wasn't a lie, of course. She was worried that she may one day have to defend them and that her wits and poison might not be enough, especially if the Fire Lord was involved, a man she could easily see turning on her and Ozai. Obviously, that wasn't the whole truth. but you couldn't very well win a war when your opponent new your every move and every weakness, so she left it at that and waited for his response. She felt his hand gently lift her face to meet his and she realized with a bit of surprise that he looked almost confused at her words, rather than protective as she had planned.

> “Is this because of what happened to Iroh?” He asked and Ursa forced her face to remain emotionless as she considered his words. No, of course it wasn’t about what happened to Iroh, but she thought quickly and nodded, even though she had no idea what worrying event had happened to the elder prince and her decision was much more selfishly motivated than that. “Ursa, that battle was a near tragedy, but you have no need to fear-”
> 
> “But it could happen to you!” She cut back, still having no idea what exactly she was talking about, but based upon Iroh’s demeanor and Ozai’s tone, she imagined it was bad, “The Fire Lord keeps you here running his court now, but we both know that could change at any point and I refuse to be defenseless should you ever be taken from me!” _Or if this version of you, looking at me right now with what might be something special, turns out be only an illusion._
> 
> “Ursa, that will never happen. You didn't lose me when we were at odds and you certainly will not lose me know that we're-" Ozai stopped before he finished, a strange looking coming over his face for a minute as something left unsaid hung between them, "now that we've reached an understanding.”

His voice was confident despite his clear omission of something he had been about to say, but she didn't believe him, even as he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. Well, she supposed she couldn't really lose him if she never had him, so perhaps he was partially right. 

> “You can’t promise that,” She mumbled instead, pulling herself up to look at him, “and so I want to learn.”

He sighed in exasperation, but before he could argue she grabbed his chin and forced him to look into her eyes, deciding she had to press her advantage now or risk losing this battle.

> “I asked your permission out of respect, Ozai, but I will learn, and if you're so worried about word getting out, than you can teach me yourself and this can be our little secret, a secret you don’t display to the world on your skin.” She told him firmly, watching as he arched an eyebrow at her, his hand coming to grip her wrist as it had that night their first war had started.
> 
> “You would defy me?” He whispered, squeezing tight and sending sparks up her arms.
> 
> “Proudly.” Ursa responded, not releasing him even as his grip grew even stronger. “You teach me, or risk the whole court knowing that your wife likes to play at sword fighting.”

He snorted at this and for a second she thought he might still say no, but then he shook his head and laughed, shattering the tension between them and loosening his grip on her wrist even though he didn’t let go.

> “How lucky you are that your defiance amuses me,” Ozai murmured, shaking his head with a little too much condescension for her liking, “but very well, I’ll teach you, if only to prevent you from embarrassing both of us.”
> 
> “Who says I would embarrass us?”Sshe responded, leaning her face down to ghost her lips against him, “you should know by now, Ozai, that I am very good at playing rough.”

He growled lightly his throat and before she could pull away captured her lips in his hungrily, passion crackling between them like lightning and sending desire coursing through her blood as hot and fast as a wildfire.

> “You are,” Her husband breathed when they finally broke apart, “but even so, I want something in return.”

She released his face and leaned back skeptically, her skin hot and the fire within her burning almost painfully, but she refused to sate it until she found out his full terms. Business always came before pleasure, for Ursa didn’t trust herself not to lose sight of one in the throes of the other.

> “What do you want?” She asked shortly, meeting his eyes as a smirk consumed his face.
> 
> “Don’t look like that, it’s only fair I ask for a favour in return,” Ozai teased bringing her hand to his lips and pressing burning kisses to each of her fingers, “and I think you’ll like it.”

Ursa arched an eyebrow at him and pulled her hand away almost spitefully, her skin tingling where his lips had pressed against her fingers.

> “Well, what is it?” She asked, ignoring his hand even as it traced the outside of her thigh.
> 
> “I might need you to help me get someone banished.” He told her, his face completely serious and surprisingly controlled despite how hungry his eyes were, and Ursa couldn’t help but furrow her brow at him in slight confusion.

> “You want to involve your wife in court intrigue?” Ursa inquired, leaning backwards to stop him from distracting her as he leaned forward, gold eyes gleaming with a light she hadn’t seen before.
> 
> “I said 'might', I don't know if I'll be needing your services yet, but we’re partners now, aren’t we? Why should I get to have all the fun? Not to mention you have abilities I don’t.” Her husband replied as she gripped his robes to keep herself from toppling backwards once more, “So, do we have a deal?”

Ursa sighed, fisting the silk of his clothes tightly as she hung suspended once more. She had suspected this would have to be a two way trade, especially now that she knew Ozai would never give without also taking, but she hadn’t imagined these would be his terms. She knew he played the games of court, wrestling with the other ministers and generals for power, which as a second son he had to earn since all honors were usually bestowed on the firstborn son, but he had never asked her to be a part of it. In fact, he had seemed to like that she kept clear of it, perhaps so he could entertain her with stories others might already know, but ones she would never seek out. However, she had to admit that she was getting quite bored, and if this is what it took to get Ozai to teach her how to be as deadly with steel as he was with fire, then she supposed there were worse things he could have asked for.

> “Fine, we have a deal.” Ursa whispered and his lips immediately crashed against hers, hands hot as they rushed to rid her of the silk that had suddenly becoming stifling.

She moaned as she ripped open the collar of his own robes and they sealed their new treaty in fire. Perhaps this would always be the way with them, and as Ursa lay in the afterglow, skin slick with sweat and Ozai warm beside her, she found she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.


	8. The Jaws of Defeat

The blades were slightly heavy in Ursa’s hands and the handles smooth against her palms as she slunk in the shadows, eyes fixed on Ozai’s turned back. He stood in the center of the room calmly, arms crossed over his chest confidently, not even bothering to look at her, even though he knew she was there. She waited patiently for his head to turn ever so slightly in her direction before rushing out towards him, feinting left before suddenly dashing right, her blades flashing as they swung towards his exposed abdomen. She swore she heard him laugh as he dodged to the side, leaving her blades to swipe nothing but air. She turned swiftly, ducking in time to miss the jet of fire that shot above her head, although she was almost too slow as it was so close the heat made her skin prickle. She threw herself to the side as another blast of fire hit the ground where she had just been crouching, leaving another black mark on her once pristine bedroom floor, and bared her blades as she rounded on her husband again. The steel glittered in the flames as she spun them quickly, diffusing Ozai’s burst with the blades’ whirlwind, but before she could resume her attack she felt a strong hand grab hold of her right wrist. She cried out as her wrist was twisted with a light pop and the sword fell to the ground. Ursa grunted and swung her other sword towards the offending hand, but a well placed kick sent it flying behind her and within seconds she found herself pinned to the floor, her husband’s hand resting lightly on her throat as he grinned down at her.

> “Better, but you’re still too tense.” Ozai informed her with a smirk, leaning his face down closer to her. Ursa growled lightly and grabbed his wrist with her free hand, wrapping her legs around his hips and using all her strength and momentum to flip them over. Ozai groaned slightly as his side smacked against the wooden floor of Ursa’s cleared chambers, but his grip didn’t release, even as she straddled his chest, one knee on his left arm to keep it from joining the one threatening to strangle her. “You do know if we were really fighting, I would have boiled the flesh of your neck long before we reached this point, right?” He said, arching an eyebrow at her as his thumb played along her windpipe ever so gently.
> 
> “I do, but a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to push you off, let alone roll you over onto your back without you letting me.” Ursa replied, her hands still gripping his right wrist, probably tight enough to bruise. “I’d say that’s a sign of progress.”
> 
> “I suppose so.” Ozai conceded, finally releasing her neck, which in turn allowed her to let go of his wrist and roll off to lay beside him on the cool floor.
> 
> “You don’t sound sure.” She commented, glancing from Ozai beside her towards the ceiling, where the flames of the lantern illuminating the room made its holder gleam a brilliant gold.
> 
> “Well, your form is certainly better,” Ozai replied, his hand resting besides her for once not seeming warm thanks to their hours of exercise, "and your technique is adequate, if unoriginal-”
> 
> “What praise,” Ursa interrupted sarcastically, turning her head to arch an eyebrow at him, “you’re doing my confidence wonders.”
> 
> “If you wanted lies to sooth your ego, you should have hired an expensive private tutor.” Ozai cut back, not unkindly as he turned his face to meet hers, “you know I never give praise when it hasn’t been earned, even to you.” Ursa swallowed as she held his gaze for a long moment, disliking the tone of superiority he was addressing her with even as a shiver ran down her spine at his clear separation of her from everyone else. “As I was saying, you have progressed as expected, but although technique can be improved with practice, there are two areas that you are currently struggling in that will impede any real progress if not mastered.”
> 
> “And these areas are?” Ursa inquired, turning over onto her side to better glare at him, ignoring her sore muscles’ groans and protests at this action.
> 
> “You have to think of duel swords as two parts of the same blade,” Ozai explained, gold eyes dancing from her face to where the blades had been thrown. “You fight as if each is an independent weapon, and your lack of synchronization weakens your attacks and your defense.”
> 
> “And the second?” Ursa asked, seeing a familiar light take hold of his eyes, something which both scared her and ignited a fire in her chest.
> 
> “You lack the instinct to kill.” Ozai whispered, his face moving slightly closer to hers as they lay on the floor.

Despite the softness of his words, they seemed to echo all around her as if he had yelled them, and Ursa couldn’t help but furrow her brow at him in confusion.

> “What do you mean?” She asked, shivering slightly as one of his hands trailed its way up the exposed flesh of her arm, gently tracing the bruises previous nights, of training, but also of passion, had left on her smooth skin.
> 
> “I mean exactly what I said,” Ozai murmured, his fingers moving from the dark blotches to trace over the bone where her shoulder met her arm. “When we spar, you never go for the kill shot. You should have gone for my heart earlier, or perhaps my neck, but instead you aimed at my side, which would not impair me enough to prevent me from killing you in a real fight.” Ursa gasped as suddenly his hand latched around her throat and his whole body loomed over her, blocking out the light flickering above them. Her hand moved to grab his wrist as she had before, but before it left the ground one of his knees was on her right arm, pushing down almost painfully, and her left was pinned by his other hand. His eyes seemed to glow as he stared down at her, something primal and terrifying glinting in those gold depths, and Ursa found herself almost paralyzed with fear. “Do you know how easy it would be to end your life right now?” Ozai asked, his voice strangely light as he looked down at her, trapped and helpless beneath him. “One clench of my hand and I could cut off your flow of air, one swift elbow to your neck and I could break your wind pipe. There would be many more if I was armed like even the lowest of Fire Nation soldiers is, and as a bender, there is no shortage of ways I could snuff you out. These are the things I think about when I spar, but I know for a fact you do not.” He released her as his words floated in the air around them, pushing himself to his feet, just in time for a tear to escape her eye. She felt it slide from the corner of her right eye, down her cheek, to nestle her in hairline right above her ear and she saw Ozai almost visibly start at the sight of it. “Ursa-”
> 
> “It’s an unconscious reaction.” She muttered, pushing herself to sitting position, hand unconsciously going to her throat as she wiped the tear away, which is when she noticed her hands were shaking. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not actually crying.”

Ozai furrowed his brow at her words, clearly not quite believing her as he knelt beside her to take her hand in his.

> “But you are shaking.” He murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face that had escaped her bun during their training session. “Did I scare you?”

Ursa’s eyes flicked to him almost angrily as he said this and she wanted so badly to yell that, yes, of course he had scared her. Who wouldn’t be terrified if their husband suddenly held them down by the throat and explained all the ways he could kill them? Who wouldn't be at least a little frightened after seeing that strange, primal look in his eyes? However, she swallowed these angry questions as she met Ozai's eyes, sensing immediately that he would not be entirely sympathetic to her feelings in this case, especially since his philosophy when it came to training was that it should be conducted as if it was the real thing and death was certainly a part of combat. Additionally, Ursa suspected he would struggle to understand why this would unnerve her so since he was only afraid of losing power and of his father. He would be even less sympathetic if he learned of the deeper fears which were the true cause of her shaking hands and teary eyes. In that moment, when she had felt his grip tighten on her throat and seen that horrifying look in his eyes, it had been like all her fears of him being able to turn on her in a moment were realized. 

> “Perhaps a little.” She conceded, her throat feeling strangely thick as another tear escaped her eye, something she resented since she could easily see him using the fact that he could scare her against her some day. “But I know you didn't-”

She choked on the words, briefly putting a hand to her mouth to try and stop the tears that seemed to be pushing their way up her throat against her will. She felt Ozai stiffen beside her as her shoulders began to shake and before she could further embarrass herself by out right crying, something she thought would certainly end their training sessions and ensure she never had the abilities, experience, or strength to fight should her fears ever become true, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as her momentum pushed them backwards. They landed with a thud, Ursa’s face buried in the crook of Ozai’s neck where he couldn’t see her, and she forced herself to swallow her fears as she breathed him in. He always smelt of fire, smoky and slightly dangerous, but always with a strange under layer of something equally sweet, and she finally managed to force her tears to subside as his arms wrapped around her, gently hugging her against him. It was strange, really, to think about the utter contradiction that was this situation. Not a minute ago he had been explaining how he could kill her, now he was holding her like she was something precious. Perhaps, it was this easy duality that made him so dangerously alluring, but was also what made him such a perilous and potentially fate opponent.

> “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Ozai murmured, gently stroking her back in a way that made her want to believe him, even if she suspected her actually had since, although they were currently at peace, there was no saying when another war would start, and intimidating one’s enemies was always a way to pave the path to victory.
> 
> “I know.” She lied back, although she still remained where she was, worried he might see her suspicion through her facade if she revealed her face too quickly.

The last thing she needed was him either thinking she was too delicate for this, which would be both insulting and a perhaps irreversible setback, or worse, suspecting why she was so determined to continue on with these lessons. However, before the conversation could progress any further, a loud knock was heard at the door, and she felt Ozai’s head shift to look towards it, no doubt with his characteristic slight frown of annoyance.

> “My prince?” A worried voice called, “I have a message for you.”
> 
> “Don’t answer it!” Ursa whispered urgently, feeling her face pinken slightly at the thought of what people might think should the messenger at the door have heard anything that just transpired, or, for that matter, see them in their relative state of undress: Ozai dressed in nothing but light pants and Ursa much the same except for the addition of a tight binding to keep her breasts out of the way. “What if he suspects what we were doing and reports it to the Firelord?”

Ursa knew that was a weak excuse, and she suspected Ozai thought so as well given his sigh, but nevertheless he didn’t object to her request. Whether it was out of guilt for “scaring her” or out of worry about the threat of discovery, she didn’t quite know. Part of her wanted to think the former, but another, more rational no doubt, part of her, hated that she did.

> “I’m a little busy right now.” Ozai eventually replied, “can it wait?”
> 
> “It’s from the Firelord, your highness,” the voice replied, sounding more scared by the minute. “So I don’t think so.”

Ursa felt Ozai sigh as he gently shifted under her.

> “Well, that’s rather inconvenient.” He muttered to her, gently beginning to sit up, something she hampered by pushing hard down on his shoulders and forcing him back down to the ground with a low thump.
> 
> “Tell him to just leave it.” She hissed, clinging to him tighter as a strange sense of foreboding took over her body.

She wasn’t sure exactly how, but she sensed danger lurking here in the message the servant had brought, and she was determined to put it off if she could.

> “Ursa, this is getting a little ridiculous.” Ozai hissed back, but nonetheless continued a little louder with, “Can you just leave the message? Now really isn’t a good time.”
> 
> “I was instructed to bring back a reply immediately, sir-”
> 
> “Oh all right,” Ozai interrupted before letting out another, this time much more dramatic, sigh, “Give me a minute. Ursa, if you wouldn’t mind?”
> 
> “I thought you were worried about what people would think?” She whispered, although she did slightly relax her grip.
> 
> “Well, at this point the poor messenger outside probably just thinks he’s caught us in flagrante, if you know what I mean,” Ozai countered, finally managing to push them up into a sitting position, even though Ursa was sure to still keep her face hidden in his hair and out of his sight. “So at worst, the whole palace will just be filled with rumors that we are a little risque when it comes to our marital relations, which is hardly new.”
> 
> “You’d think the court would have tired of talking about such things.” She muttered as she reluctantly, although possibly not for the reason Ozai would suspect, clambered off him, making sure to keep her face at least partially turned away from him. “Their morbid fascination with our life is growing wearisome.”
> 
> “You don’t know the half of it,” Ozai murmured, squeezing her shoulder as he moved towards the door, raising his voice as he said, “but don’t fret, I’ll be back in your arms in a minute.”

She heard the door open behind her and the distinctive light crackling sound of a letter being opened. She expected it to be quick, as it usually was, but instead, a long silence reigned across the room and finally she turned towards Ozai and the open door, frowning as she saw the dark look on his face as he stared down at the small sheet of paper in his hands.

> “What is it?” She asked, grabbing a nearby robe, which, as it turned out, was not hers, and covering her less than chaste training wear before approaching her husband by the door.
> 
> “Oh, nothing much,” Ozai responded, his voice dangerously light and falsely casual, something even the servant cowering on the other side of the threshold clearly picked up on since he seemed to shrink even more as Ozai turned his golden eyes to him, “it seems my father wishes me to call on him tomorrow morning, which of course I will. You won’t mind me missing our morning meal, will you, my love?”

Ursa forced herself not to arch an eyebrow at this endearment, which she was well aware didn’t exactly come from a place of affection, and instead smiled sweetly and shook her head.

> “Of course not, my darling.” She replied, putting a little too much stress on her final words, a slight jab back at him that was met with a brief flash of his golden eyes.
> 
> “Well, then it’s settled,” Ozai declared, his eyes still perilously bright as he turned back to look at the poor servant, “Please tell the Firelord I shall call on him first thing tomorrow.”
> 
> “Of course, your highness.” The messenger mumbled, bowing low as he took the message back on the shaking silver platter in his hands. “Princess.” He muttered, rather belatedly, in farewell, before scurrying away under Ursa’s pitying eye.

Of all the servants in the palace, she imagined being Firelord Azulon’s personal messenger was one of the most stressful and most thankless.

> “Did your father say what he wants?” Ursa asked as soon as she heard the door to their chambers close, feeling a shiver of dread work its way up her spine at the thought of what it might be.

Firelord Azulon didn’t often call Ozai, or even Iroh for that matter. However, any time he did, both princes often left in a foul temper, Ozai always more angry than Iroh. Given the timing of this summons, Ursa could only think the worst of what this meeting would be about.

> “No, just that he expects my presence early tomorrow morning.” Ozai muttered, roaming the room like a caged animal as he picked up the duel swords and placed them back in their sheaths. “Along with that of my brother.”
> 
> “Do you think he knows about this?” Ursa asked, watching him wearily as he continued his pacing around the room.
> 
> “He might, although how would be a more interesting and dangerous question to ask.” Ozai replied, tossing the swords against the wall with a thud, “if he does know, he’ll likely berate me for the potential dishonor of it all and order me to stop it.”
> 
> “And will you?” Ursa asked softly, her tone apparently making Ozai stop in his tracks. “Let him stop something I think we’ve both enjoyed?”
> 
> “I have no choice.,” Ozai finally answered, glancing at her before he crossed his arms and glared at the tapestry of the Fire Nation flag that they had left hanging on her wall. “My father is the Firelord, his will is my command.”

\------------

> “Ursa!” An unwelcome voice called, cutting through the fog of her slumber, “Ursa, you have to wake up!” She groaned and rolled over, resenting this intrusion into her much needed rest and more than a little unwilling to be awoken just yet. “Ursa!” She heard again, feeling a hand grasp her shoulder and shake her a little more roughly than she'd expect. “Ursa!” Ursa blinked groggily, turning her head to glance down towards her shoulder in confusion. The room was bright, signalling the triumph of day over night, and said light ensured she immediately knew the hand resting there was definitely not Ozai’s, not that she’d expect it to be since he hardly ever woke her in the morning unless he was particularly desperate, but that still left the question of who it was and how they had gotten into her room. Annoyance helped cut through the sleep still clouding her mind as she followed the line of the person’s arm, but her annoyance was immediately replaced by confusion when she realized it was Iroh who had so rudely shaken her awake and was now looming by her beside.
> 
> “Iroh?” She asked hoarsely, supremely glad she was dressed this morning as she sat up to stare at her brother in law with increasing bewilderment, “what are you doing in here?”
> 
> “I’m afraid something rather unpleasant has happened, Ursa.” The Crown Prince explained, his face pinched and worried as he looked towards the door to her and Ozai’s (technically Ozai’s, but Ursa felt she had the right to lay some claim to it now) bed chamber. “And I thought it was best that you heard it from me before you heard anything from anyone else.”

Ursa blinked at him, feeling as if her brain was working at half speed as she processed his words and stared at Iroh in a mix of dread, fear, and befuddlement, more unnerved by the break in his usually serene facade than by his words.

> “What’s happened?” Ursa asked urgently, forcing herself to concentrate despite the sleep still clouding her mind. “Does it have something to do with you and Ozai’s meeting with Firelord Azulon this morning?”
> 
> “I’m afraid so,” Iroh replied, staring at her in concern. “You see, my father called us for an audience early this morning to talk about you.” Ursa felt her heart stop in her chest at Iroh’s words and adrenaline race through her veins, making her feel much more awake than she had been just a second before. “Specifically, he chided Ozai on your lack of an heir.”

Ursa felt her eyes go wide at Iroh’s words, her face immediately becoming hot and no doubt red as she clutched the bed sheets with all her might, torn between understanding too well the implications of these words and desperately wishing to refuse to accept them.

> “The Firelord called Ozai to discuss why I’m not pregnant?” Ursa clarified, needing to hear it again as she began to feel strangely detached from everything as panic began to build in her chest.
> 
> “Yes,” Iroh confirmed, looking very apologetic as Ursa began to feel slightly nauseated, her skin both too hot and too cold as her blood began rushing in her ears, “he seems to think that after a year of marriage, there should at least be another heir on the way and he was most displeased when Ozai informed him that was not the case, especially given the Fire Sages’ prophecy.”

Words could not describe the storm that began ripping Ursa apart at this news. Anger, hot and burning, was the first emotion to course through her veins, anger that anyone, even the Firelord, would dare shame her over something like this, and rage that he expected her to be with child when her marriage had been so miserable and unconsummated for so long. Frustration also reared its angry head as her rage began bubbling in her blood, frustration that somehow she was being blamed for this, when Ozai was at least as at fault as her in regard to their childlessness, but also frustration at herself that she hadn’t predicted this turn of events and had somehow neglected this very vulnerable chink in her status. Everyone knew a consort’s place wasn’t stable until they produced an heir, but given the current state of the line of succession, Ursa struggled to understand why Firelord Azulon was apparently so desperate for her and Ozai to have children. For one, Ursa’s husband was unlikely to ever inherit the throne and Iroh's status as Crown Prince was unlikely to change, especially with him already having a healthy, hearty son who would no doubt go onto have a family of his own one day. Sure, having spares was always useful, especially during a time of war, but why was this suddenly so important to the Firelord, who had hardly taken note of his younger son’s marriage this last year? Did it have something to do with whatever had happened to Iroh on his last campaign? Had whatever near miss his oldest son had suffered convinced Firelord Azulon that his line needed as many heirs as possible?

> “When you say displeased,” Ursa finally managed to say, her voice sounding strained and tight even to her own ears as angry questions and thoughts buzzed like enraged gnats in her mind, “what exactly do you mean?”
> 
> “I mean angry and disappointed, so upset it seems that my father informed Ozai that, for the kingdom, it would be best if he found another wife, preferably a bender this time, who could do what you have not.” Iroh explained softly, and although his voice was kind, Ursa briefly thought she might faint. His words seemed to echo in her ears, making them ring painfully as her entire body began to shake, and despite her wishes to remain strong in the face of this disaster, terrible, soul crushing fear seemed to consume her and she swore that she might actually be dying. Had all that suffering she endured, all that torment, loneliness, and emotional manipulation, been for nothing? Had she swallowed her pride, broken and remade herself, hidden away the best parts of her spirit, just to be tossed aside like she was nothing? Had her family’s last chance at honor been snuffed out just like that?! Tears formed in her eyes as she thought of her mother and father, of her family name and all her ancestors, and a painful, lingering shame seemed to permeate all of her being. How could she have failed them all like this? “Ursa,” Iroh's voice said, sounding terribly far away, “Ursa, I know this is must be horrifyingly overwhelming for you, but I need you to use that strength I know you have to listen to me now.”
> 
> “It’s all over.” Ursa murmured, feeling like a dazed and cornered animal with nowhere to run, “everything is ruined-”
> 
> “No!” Iroh told her firmly, his gold eyes seeming to be the only thing she could focus on as the world seemed to spin maddeningly around her. “No, it’s not. All is not yet lost! I won’t let you take my father’s blame for something that is not your fault and callous treatment lying down!”

Ursa stared at Iroh in shock as his words pierced the maelstrom raging in her mind, almost not believing what she had just heard.

> “You would help me stand against the Firelord?” She whispered, still feeling like she was lost in some endless, stormy sea, “you would stand against your father?”
> 
> “Filial loyalty has its limits, Ursa,” Iroh murmured, hands squeezing her shoulders comfortingly as his eyes, not as calm as usual, but certainly comforting to Ursa’s frenzied mind, held her gaze, “and although he is a great man, my father is not always right and, as all men, can be influenced by others' ill-intent.”
> 
> “Are you saying that you think this isn’t coming from the Firelord himself?’ Ursa inquired desperately, clinging to Iroh’s arms, feeling as if he was a raft in her storm-torn ocean.
> 
> “Given that he’s been silent on the matter for the past year, only to suddenly decide your marriage is a matter of concern? I do believe so.” Iroh answered soothingly, not protesting her hold on him, even though a small voice in the back of her head thought she might be gripping him a little too tightly. “My guess would be it’s from one of his advisors, either with some grudge against you, or more likely Ozai, who is using my father’s advanced age and paranoia against him to seek their own advancement.”
> 
> “But even if it is someone else,” Ursa countered, wishing her heart rate would slow down so she could think straight, possibly about what paranoia Iroh was referring to, “He’s the Firelord-”
> 
> “Yes, but the Fire Sage’s prophecy still stands and Avatar Roku has no other descendants save you. I have a sneaking suspicion this decision was motivated by some snake whispering in my father’s ear about his advancing years and the recent bout of danger I suffered, which was really not nearly as deadly as everyone makes it out to be, to try and move you aside so they can worm their way into the royal family, but no matter how noble they are in status, they don’t have the bloodline that will fulfill the prophecy.” Iroh told her, glancing once more towards the door, which she now realized was because he was worried Ozai would appear. “This is why I know that, if we do this just right, we can save you.”
> 
> “But,” Ursa murmured, her eyes drifting downwards towards her abdomen, “the only way to really save me is-”

She couldn't even say the words as she stared down at her flat abdomen, but luckily she didn't have to since Iroh clearly understood the price of her salvation.

> “Yes, but luckily that is something that can be rectified, which is why we don’t have to completely change my father’s mind, just buy you and my brother time.” Iroh explained, his eyes determined despite the fact that they were, technically, talking treason, and Ursa was reminded once more that Iroh was more than prince as he refused to buckle under the pressure quickly gathering around them. “I know I can convince the sages to restate their prophecy and the importance of your blood in fulfilling it, reminding my father why this isn’t a match he should throw away so thoughtlessly, but the real person who can slow this down is-”
> 
> “Ozai.” Ursa whispered, fear suddenly striking her heart again as she realized that only her husband could really save her at this point since he was rather necessary when it came to counteracting the argument against her, not to mention the fact that his assent and probable reason for the annulment of their marriage was what Firelord Azulon would need to officially discard Ursa.
> 
> “Unfortunately, yes,” Iroh grimaced, glancing towards the door again, “you’ll need to convince him to fight for you against our father.”
> 
> “He won’t do that!” Ursa cried, looking towards her husband’s empty side of the bed with a mixture of sadness and resentment, “You know he always bows to your father’s will, I doubt he’d fight for his own child’s life, let alone someone as replaceable as a wife!”
> 
> “But you’re not replaceable, Ursa!” Iroh told her in what she assumed was supposed to be an encouraging tone, but came off more exasperated than anything else as his eyes pleaded with her to believe him, “Yes, another woman could bare heirs, but they don’t have your lineage, and above that, of all the women I’ve seen my brother with over the years, you’re the only one I’ve ever seen who makes him genuinely smile. Now, that is an accomplishment all on its own.”
> 
> “But,” Ursa interjected, hating how often she found herself arguing against her worth during this conversation, “you know how it was at the beginning-”
> 
> “I know, I know, but no matter what happened at the beginning of your marriage, you have, somehow, earned his respect and perhaps more.” Iroh countered, his steady voice and appearance of confidence picking at the chinks in her despair, “He was willing to go against custom when you asked, he broke his long-term habit of consorting with courtesans for you, and I have never seen his face as angry and upset as when my father told him to set you aside.” Iroh squeezed her shoulders once more, eyes projecting confidence Ursa wished she felt. “You are clever, intelligent, and observant, Ursa, smart enough to dance circles around most of the people in Court and strong enough to hold your own against my brother. You can win this battle too, I know you can. So don’t give up!”

Ursa felt herself, despite all her doubts and fears, nodding at Iroh’s words, her anger, humiliation, pain, fear, and resentment, hardening into a painful, hard ball of resolve in her chest, that caught fire as she glanced back towards where Ozai had lain beside her last night. She was Ursa, Avatar Roku’s granddaughter, in her veins ran power stronger than even the flames that powered Firelord Azulon’s precious bending, and she would not roll over at his command, not when she had spilt so much of her blood for him already.

\---------------

Somehow, Ursa didn’t exactly know how or even why, perhaps intuition or some attraction towards danger due to a deficiency in her self-preservation instinct, she knew Ozai would be in the training yards, something that made her curse out loud since they happened to be rather far from her chambers. She mentally calculated the distance she’d have to travel to get there, and immediately knew it would be an unpleasant journey that would, unfortunately take her through some rather populated parts of the palace. Knowing that in advance, however, didn’t make the whispers that followed her as she strode through the palace any easier to endure.

> “If I was Princess Ursa, I wouldn’t have the strength to show my face after what the Firelord said.”
> 
> “It really is a pity she couldn't conceive.”
> 
> “Who do you think will be chosen to take the princess' place?”

All of these remarks, of course, were accompanied by bloodthirsty smirks and hungry eyes from people waiting to rush into the hole left by her downfall. Once upon a time, Ursa knew such unfriendly attention would have unnerved her, emphasized her isolation in this beautiful, yet foreign place, and perhaps even made her cry, but she was too angry and too determined to let the court’s attention break her now. They were smoke compared to the dangerous inferno she was currently striding towards and she would not disrespect all that she had worked for and suffered by being as weak as she had been when she had first arrived here. Well, that’s at least what she kept telling herself as she stepped into the training yards and found the place littered with the corpses of targets and dummies alike, stinking of ash and pulsing with an almost uncomfortable heat. Ozai, naturally, stood at the center of all this destruction, dark hair gleaming in the sunlight and shoulders heaving from the effort of committing the destruction all around him. He didn’t turn to look at her as she approached him, forcing herself to look cool and calm as she stepped over the carnage littering the ground, but he clearly knew she was there.

> “I know what your father and you discussed this morning.” Ursa told his back, standing a good six feet away from him so he couldn’t make any sudden movements without giving her warning.
> 
> “I’m not surprised,” Ozai answered, his voice painfully chilly to her ears, “he didn’t exactly try to keep the conversation quiet. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole court knows by now.”
> 
> “They do,” she informed him, growing slightly irritated as he kept his back to her, refusing to even give her the courtesy of looking her in the eyes, “and they all seem to think you’re just going to let him.” A cool wind blew through the training grounds, seeming to emphasis Ozai’s silence as strands of Ursa’s hair danced around her face. “Well, husband? Are you going to let your father discard me?”
> 
> “It’s not my choice to make, Ursa.” Ozai told her, his voice annoyingly steady as he bent his head to look at something before him, his use of her name strangely painful to hear given what they were discussing. “My father is Firelord, his wish-”
> 
> “Is your command, yes, I know.” She finished, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him, beginning to wonder if this cool, calm approach was really the most effective one she could be taking. “But it doesn’t have to be.”
> 
> “Suggesting that we disobey the Firelord is treason.” Ozai told her, still not looking at her, which was both rendering her attempt at a cool facade useless and making her angrier than anything he could possibly have said to her.
> 
> “I wasn’t suggesting treason.” She told him, observing him carefully as she found herself standing at a crossroads.

He was still clearly very angry, she could see it in his stiff posture and could feel it rolling off him in waves of almost nauseating heat, and despite his best efforts to the contrary, Ursa had learned to read Ozai. She had learned to read his moods in the tension of his neck and the micro-expressions of his face, learned how to gauge his emotions by the temperature of the room and the flare of his eyes. She knew him, more than he had ever wanted her to, and perhaps that’s why she knew, more instinctively than cognitively, that the only way she was going to convince him to help her was by somehow using his burning anger to her advantage.

> “Well, what were you suggesting then?“ Ozai asked, his voice deadly calm and frightening enough that she almost backed down before she even started.

Almost, but she chose her path anyways and steeled herself for the burning path ahead. 

> “What I’m suggesting is that you grow a spine!” She yelled, allowing all her anger and venom to flow into her words, which were much louder than she intended as they seemed to echo all around them as Ozai stiffened like he had been slapped.

He rounded on her with eyes blazing and it took all her self-control to not begin shaking with fear.

> “How dare-”
> 
> “How dare you!” She interrupted, refusing to allow him to lecture her or convince himself that she in any way deserved what he was doing to her. She briefly considered storming up to him and yelling in his face, but quickly dismissed it since such an action would ensure he had every advantage should this fight turn physical, which she had a sinking feeling it would. “After everything you put me through, after all I suffered, and all we burned together, how dare you allow your father to discard me for something that is hardly my fault!”
> 
> “It’s not my fault either!” Ozai yelled back, clenching his fists at his sides in a way that promised danger. “And I tried to talk him out of it-”
> 
> “Oh, I’m sure!" Ursa interjected, taking a small step back as his fists began to smoke, “I’m sure you tried! No doubt your grovelled and kowtowed, begged and whined, did everything except challenge him!” Her words seemed to spring from her lips by their own violation and Ursa found that, despite her body screaming at her to stop as Ozai’s face became downright murderous, she couldn’t. She was too angry now, too upset, too _hurt (_ she still hesitated to use the word, but this time _hurt_ did seem appropriate) by what was happening, by what he was allowing to happen, to want to stop now. “Because no matter how powerful you are, or how strong you claim to be, before your father, you are nothing but a sad little boy who never got the love he so craved!” Something in her mind screamed at her to duck and she threw herself to the ground right in time to miss having her face burned off my a blast of fire. She gasped as the heat tickled the back of her neck and threw herself to the side as another fireball gauged the training ground an inch from where she had just been sitting, heartbeat racing in her chest as she forced herself to continue speaking. “You can pretend all you like with everyone else!” She yelled, meeting his eyes as gold and red flames twirled beautifully and dangerously around his fingers, “but I know the truth! You so crave your father’s love, his approval, and his respect that you do everything he asks of you, but no matter what you do, it never changes the fact that he prefers your older brother!” Her eyes went wide and she just had time to throw herself backwards before yet another blast of fire blackened the ground right in front of where she had just been standing. “And although you know this, you are still so desperate for his love that you let him walk all over you anyways! Face it, Ozai, you may be one of the strongest fire benders the royal family has seen since Sozin, but you’re still just an unloved little boy living in the shadow of his older brother!”
> 
> “What makes you think you can speak to me like that?!” Ozai yelled at her, eyes blazing with the same terrifying light that had so unnerved her last night, the light that had made her think he could snuff her out without a moment's hesitation. “Do you think a few enjoyable months and tender moments have given you the right to talk as if you know anything about me or my family, you peasant girl tainted with the blood of a traitor?!”

Ursa narrowed her eyes at his words, sneering at him as she leapt forward and dove behind a fallen dummy as a blast of fire made her robes smoke and spark.

> “I may be a tainted peasant in your eyes!” She cried, yelping slightly as the part of the dummy just to the right of her head suddenly was consumed by a blast of burning fire. “But I wasn’t so tainted that you refused to ravish me when given the chance and bargain with me to maintain that honor!” The silence that followed her words was deafening, broken only by her breathing, her booming heartbeat, and the crackling of the flames around them, making Ursa wonder if she had just struck on something important. “And even if I am so low, at least I’m willing to fight for what matters to me!”
> 
> “Oh, so your position and title matter to you now?” Ozai’s mocking voice called, completely ignoring her comment about how their peace had been forged, something she took as confirmation of its importance and as either a sign that he was now ashamed of that, or that what they had shared was perhaps more significant to him than he was willing to admit. She wondered which would hurt more, the former being true, or the latter being true, but having no affect on Ozai's compliance with his father's wishes. Naturally, he didn’t give her much time to consider that, a good thing, she was sure, as Ursa found herself diving behind the wreckage of what might have been a table once, fire chasing at her heels. “Didn’t you once tell me you would rather live as a peasant than have to suffer the torture and isolation you endured in this luxurious pit of vipers?!”
> 
> “Don't throw my words back at me like that as if the context of when I said them doesn't matter!” Ursa yelled back, wiping the sweat beading on her brow as she dodged another fiery attack, which, as it turned out, landed beside where she had been crouching, rather than hitting her and her shield dead on. "You know well that’s not how I feel anymore!" Another blaze flashed before her eyes, engulfing the side of her shield farthest from her. Ursa stared at that spot in momentary confusion before a sudden realization struck that convinced her she could win this, even with fire raining down all around her: Ozai's aim had been a little off this entire time. Now, she had seen Ozai fight many a time thanks to their initial peace agreement, had seen how he destroyed masters with a lifetime’s more experience than her at combat, and she had never seen his aim be anything less than perfect, even when his target was moving as fast and perhaps erratically as she was. Sure, a particularly agile opponent could dodge his attack, but he'd always hit exactly where they had been standing, but not now, not when he was aiming at her. Ursa didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before, but now it was abundantly clear that the only reason she wasn’t burned to cinders yet was because he wasn’t actually trying to hit her. That small observation was enough to tell her that, no matter what Ozai was saying, he wasn’t as outraged at her or as stuck in his beliefs as he wanted her to believe. No doubt this show was just an attempt to scare her into letting him hide from confronting the fact that he didn’t want to do what his father had instructed him to. Perhaps this was why, instead of attacking his character as she had before, she instead said, “I fully admit that the last few months have changed me. Are you going to claim that all the time we’ve shared hasn’t done the same? That these last few months have meant nothing to you?!”

The moment of quiet as Ursa tried desperately to catch her breath was almost answer enough.

> “No,” Ozai finally said, his voice carrying even though he was no longer yelling. Ursa peeked around the rubble and realized that, although he really should have, her husband hadn’t moved to a better vantage point, another sign his heart wasn’t in this fight. “But no amount of enjoyable nights or days would make me stand against my father. Don’t you know what the price of treason is?!”
> 
> “Of course I know!” She replied, throwing her outer rob off and sprinting to the side, running in a spiraling semicircle around him as flames danced at her heels, not as intense as the earlier ones, but still dangerous should they catch her, “Have you forgotten who I am, husband? My grandfather was named one of the greatest traitors the Fire Nation has ever seen and he was left to choke on the fumes of a volcano by someone he loved!”

She quickly pivoted and rushed the other way, growing ever closer to Ozai as she zigzagged through the training ground and its charred remains, feeling the penultimate moment of this confrontation rapidly approaching.

> “Well, knowing then, more than anyone else ever could, the dishonor that would come upon my line and the consequences for standing against the Firelord’s will, how can you ask me to challenge him?” Ozai cried, turning as she feinted left.

Quickly, however, she rolled to the right, and before he could aim another strike, rose to her feet right in front of him, closer than he should ever have allowed her to come, for she was close enough to kiss him, or close enough to kill him, and both would be equally as dangerous. It seemed they both knew this as they stared at each other for a moment that seemed to last forever for Ursa, both humming with anger and adrenaline, and before he could say anything else, or she could lose her nerve, Ursa threw her arms around his neck, pressing her heaving, breathless chest against his own. He smelled of ash and she smelled of smoke, and she could feel the dark soot clinging to their sticky and slick skin, but she refused to let go or give up, even amongst all this destruction.

> “I ask you, because I would endure everything my grandfather did and more, for us.” She whispered in his ear, hating that there was truth in her words after he had threatened her with fire, “I ask you, because I love my parents and my family, and the failure of our marriage would be the ultimate disgrace to them, and I would suffer a thousand deaths before I let that happen." She continued, knowing these words, ringing with truth, would lend credence to what she was about to say. She took a deep breath as the smell of smoke filled the air and she steeled herself as she murmured, so low she could barely hear it, “and I ask because I love you.” The words were heavy in the air, seeming to quiver with untold power as they hovered around them, and Ursa was more scared of the fact that she didn’t know if she was lying then the near-burning she had just endured. After all, how sick and foolish would she be to love a man like Ozai? Yet, something in what she said was true and she desperately didn’t want to learn how much. However, whether it was true didn’t seem to matter as she heard Ozai’s breath hitch, just barely, but certainly at least stop for a second, and felt his heart begin thrumming against her chest like a drum. Perhaps her husband had not been entirely right when he said she didn’t have the instinct to kill, for she knew the words that could kill any fight he had in him right here and now. “I love you,” she repeated, swallowing her anger at the easy way the words dripped off her tongue, “more than your father ever will, and I will stand with you always, no matter what challenges we face or trials we endure.”

She felt the horrible heat that had been humming all around them since she had arrived dissipate at her words and for a long second, all she could hear was her and Ozai’s heartbeats, somehow racing together at the same incredible speed. Bad-um, bad-um, bad-um.

> “You,” Ozai whispered, his voice sounding strange to Ursa’s ears, almost fragile, although such a thing hardly seemed possible, “You love me?”
> 
> “I didn’t want to, tried not to, in fact, ” she whispered truthfully, her voice sounding weak to her own ears, something unintentional, but nonetheless helpful, especially since she couldn’t see his face and gauge how effective her words were, “but would I have run through a storm of flames for you if I didn’t?”
> 
> “You would if you were a desperate fool.” Ozai murmured, his voice definitely softer than she had ever heard it as she felt his arms gently wrap around her.
> 
> “Perhaps I am.” She breathed, hating how scared and vulnerable she felt.
> 
> “Perhaps you are,” he repeated softly, hesitantly, as she felt her heartbeat echo in her ears as his embrace tightened and something wet, a single droplet of something, landed on her shoulder, “but perhaps you’ve made one of me as well.” Another drop hit her shoulder, perhaps a tear, but Ursa would never say as much and she felt his chest quiver slightly against her and for a moment she thought all was lost, but then he exhaled and she heard him say, in little more than a whisper, “You won’t have to suffer a thousand deaths, Ursa, I’m not letting _him_ or anyone else take you from me.”

Relief, cold and sweet, raced through Ursa’s body as she found herself saved from the jaws of a fatal defeat and she finally pulled back to look into Ozai’s face. Tears were definitely shining in his eyes, looking like droplets of glittering gold as he gazed at her and suddenly, when his lips pressed against hers, ever so softly and gently, tears filled her eyes too. She clung to him tighter as she tasted fire, and finally, when they broke apart, her legs suddenly gave out under her as all her fear, all her anger, all her suffering, poured out of her in a single moment of catharsis that she felt would resonate for years to come.

> “All we need is time.” She whimpered, tears beginning to escape her eyes as Ozai clutched her in the ashes he had made, pressing their foreheads together as they both shook with the aftermath of their confrontation.
> 
> “I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her clammy forehead, “and we shall have it.” She met his eyes as a look of determination took hold of his features and in that moment, she knew, for better or for worse, what she said hadn’t been a lie. “And if my father doesn’t like it, he can choke on his own saliva.”


	9. Damage Control

Ursa had always prided herself on her self-control. Ever since she was small, she had been taught that over-expressing amongst the nobility, who were trained to be able to read a life’s story in a single glance, was the easiest way for people to determine her weaknesses. A vulnerability could be revealed in the flare of an eye, a dangerous desire seen in a hitched breath, and a fatal flaw divulged in the smallest of smirks, and in a family as low as hers, such vulnerability was nothing short of fatal, and so, Ursa learned to protect herself.

When terrified she would swallow fear with a smile and hide her shaking hands in the long sleeves of her robes. When enraged, she would bite back anger with a laugh and later vent in the quiet privacy of her room. When nervous, she would force her anxiety behind a mask of deceptive calm and keep every part of her steady and serene. Quite a skill, if she did say so herself, and this ability to hide and conceal how she truly felt was what had made her such a good actress, at least by the standards of Hira’a, and Ikem had always used to joke he was so fascinated by her because he could never tell what she was truly thinking. Naturally, Ursa’s life in the palace, especially as Ozai’s wife, had made this ability nothing short of a necessity, and she had only clung harder to it during the early parts of her marriage. To this day, she was still proud that she had never once broken before the court’s ugly eyes, sneers, or jabs. Hell, Ursa had even faced down Ozai and won. Yet now, now she felt like her control was cracking and splintering and that she was nothing more than a porcelain doll being held together by only the weakest of glues. 

Her skin felt like a paper shell around her tempest of emotions, and even after she, Ozai, and Iroh had planned their counter attack, she found it harder and harder to hide her anxiety. There were too many ifs in Iroh’s gambit, too many buts, too many possible disasters lurking all around. What if Iroh failed to remind the Fire Lord of the importance of Ursa’s heritage? What if Ozai faltered again and abandoned her? What if she couldn’t keep it together long enough to outlast her enemies? It was maddening and she wondered if Maizu could see all the cracks in her facade as she sat across the tea table from Ursa, looking as serene as a summer morning. Ursa imagined she looked like nothing better than a storm struck shore in comparison. 

> “It really is so good of you to come, Maizu.” She murmured sweetly over the pot of tea and plate of sweetmeats between them. “I very much would have understood if you did not.”
> 
> “Nonsense, I was relieved to get your invitation.” Maizu answered, although Ursa had to admit her friend seemed much more guarded than usual, almost like she was a komodo rhino, ready to charge or run at the first sign of danger. “I fully admit I’ve been worried about you these last month, especially with all these ugly rumors flitting about.” Her words were kind, but clearly carefully chosen, an olive branch as much as a test of weakness, a conversation over tea as much as a dangerous detente. Honestly, subtle politics was simply the worst and it was times like this Ursa really envied Ozai.  Her husband, with his endless depths of intimidation and threat of powerful bending, was given the task of tearing through the court to find their persecutors. He was allowed to prowl dim corridors, skulk in misty tea rooms, and do who knows what to the unfortunate souls who had answers he needed, while she was left to sit pretty and do damage control in parlors and gardens. Dangerous as his business was, Ursa would certainly prefer his tasks to her own. Intimidating people in dark corridors sounded much easier than pretending to be calm before the courtiers, trying to act as if the world wasn’t falling to pieces all around her. Then again, she had always thought women were given the harder lots in life, it seemed this disaster was no exception. “How have you been?” Maizu asked, cutting into Ursa’s reverie.
> 
> “A bit tired, to be honest.” Ursa replied as she poured Maizu a cup of tea, forcing her hands to remain calm despite the anxiety that had been flowing through her veins for so long she almost forgot what it was like to not be nervous all the time. “And, I suppose, a tad anxious.” 
> 
> “Well, that’s understandable.” Her friend responded with what could pass as kindness, taking the cup from Ursa with easy grace. “Rumors can be such ugly things and the one so fascinating the court is certainly worse than most.”
> 
> “It really is.” Ursa agreed, forcing her face to remain resigned as she casually slid over the threat against everything she and her family had worked for. “I still find it hard to believe that someone would dare to lie about something like that.” 
> 
> “It is extreme, even for the court.” Maizu agreed, also avoiding naming the rumour, whether out of respect or a desire to bait her, Ursa wasn’t sure. “Gossip is one thing, but putting words in the Fire Lord’s mouth? Using his position to attack his own daughter in law? That’s too much. No wonder your husband flew into such a rage.”

Ursa nodded, even as she felt a little knot of stress release at Maizu’s words, which were almost exact replicas of the rumors Ozai had been spreading through various contacts in the court gossip rings. Whether Maizu truly believed these counter measures, namely that this whole thing was just a rumour started by some devious enemy of theirs, she didn’t know. She appreciated her friend at least pretending to believe it though.

> “Yes, he did react rather violently, didn’t he?” Ursa added with forced casualness before taking a sip of her tea, commanding her body not to shudder at the memory of that fight. Pleasant as the ending had been, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t have mixed feelings about that little confrontation. “I swear, I’ve never seen him so angry.”
> 
> “Neither have I.” Maizu murmured with a shake of her head. “You were very brave to calm him down like that. Is is true he was shooting fire at you?” 
> 
> “No, that’s certainly an exaggeration.” Ursa answered, although her skin prickled at the memory of how close Ozai’s fire balls had come to her and the scent of her burning robes seemed to fill the air. Off his aim may have been, but Ursa had still thought those fire blasts had come too close to her for comfort. “He did throw some flames about, but they were not at me. It’s truly hilarious that people have painted it as me running around like a mad woman as he spit fire in every direction. I, at least, have too much decorum for that.”
> 
> “Naturally, and I’m sure a man as controlled as the Prince would never be so enraged that he’d threaten his own wife with fire.” Maizu granted, even though a gleam in her eyes told Ursa she knew Ozai was capable of exactly that. “I think most people though would have just let him continue on his rampage.” 
> 
> “And let him completely destroy the training yard? That hardly seems fair to the poor Master of Arms.” Ursa countered with forced levity as she took a sweetmeat from the plate, although she almost lost her appetite at the memory of how repugnant the ash had smelled on her and Ozai’s skin afterwards. “Not to mention the fact that I was worried he’d go after whoever he thought had started those rumors about the Fire Lord wanting to replace me. In his state, he probably would have torn through the palace on my behalf and made the whole thing worse.” 

Maizu arched an eyebrow as she too took a sweetmeat, but didn’t argue against Ursa’s carefully woven tapestry of lies, which in itself was a kindness.  Honestly, anyone watching her and Ozai’s violent spat would have known it was hardly her trying to calm him down. In fact, she had been trying to do just the opposite for most of it, but at the time she hadn’t exactly been thinking about what people would say about her and Ozai’s little scuffle. She had been a little busy dodging fireballs and trying to save her sorry skin, but she had to admit that they both should have used a little forethought and taken that fight out of the public eye. Their public confrontation was proving as messy an affair to deal with as the Fire Lord’s declaration against her and she had been doing damage control for what seemed like an eternity trying to cover it up. 

> “You’re too kind, Ursa. You should have let him tear through whoever he liked. Whoever started it was not only attacking you, but abusing the respect and authority of the Fire Lord himself and such behavior deserves swift action.” Maizu admonished softly, although her guarded tone was withering with every word, something Ursa wanted to take as an encouraging sign. “Does the Fire Lord know?” 
> 
> “I believe so, but he and Prince Iroh are off on some sabbatical to a Fire Temple or what not.” Ursa replied easily, even as her stomach churned at the very thought of Fire Lord Azulon and what would happen should Iroh’s side of their little plan not pan out. 

Honestly, her stomach had been in knots for a week now and she could hardly remember what it was like not to feel nauseated at every meal. She’d blame her monthly cycle if not for the fact the annoying thing seemed to have been eaten by her stress. Dear Tyene said such things were normal and she herself had missed at least three months of bleeding when she had been in the midst of a terrible calamity, but that did little to help Ursa. She needed the damn thing to be regular now more than ever so she’d be able to tell if she was saved or not. 

> “Oh?” Maizu pushed as Ursa’s hand instinctively rested on her flat stomach. “Any particular reason?”
> 
> “Apparently the Fire Sages were desperate for an audience.” Ursa answered with a casual wave. “Iroh didn’t seem too concerned about it though, so it’s probably nothing.”
> 
> “A most inconveniently timed trip for nothing.” Maizu commented, her voice casual, but eyes keen with years of court experience. “It’s truly unfortunate that the Fire Lord is away and unable to put the rumors to rest.”
> 
> “Yes, well, such things can’t be helped.” Ursa dismissed, putting her tea cup down as she forced her stomach contents to remain where they were. She hadn’t been physically ill since she was a child and Ursa could only imagine what Maizu would think if she suddenly vomited all over her. Serene, unbothered people didn’t usually throw up their stomach contents and Ursa needed to be the picture of normalcy and calm for her damage control to be effective. “And you know Fire Lord Azulon likes to stay above Court gossip. Even if he was here, he’d think addressing them beneath his dignity.” 
> 
> “Of course, and he would be right to do so.” Maizu agreed quickly, although Ursa knew she was on to her. The more inexperienced ladies who had heard this tale had believed her lies without question, but it seemed she would have a harder time with the more veteran courtiers. Reinforcement would probably be the only way to fully convince them, which meant she was in for a long campaign rather than a one time battle. She just hoped she didn’t run out of resources before the end. “But I must warn you, Ursa, out of respect for our friendship, that there are many who believe the rumors because they wish they were true. Even those who your husband considers friends, such as my brother and Imai.”
> 
> “You husband thinks this slander is credible?” Ursa asked with forced incredulity, meeting her friend’s dark eyes with her amber ones. “Why?” 
> 
> “Officially? He doesn’t.” Maizu answered cautiously, eyes darting to the window as she if she feared one of the birds flitting by might be a spy. “But the rumors apparently started from someone very close to Fire Lord Azulon, meaning that, even if he doesn’t want you replaced now, people believe he will soon enough, especially if you and the Prince remain childless.” 

Ursa forced herself not to react to this, even as she felt a heavy weight settle on her shoulders, adding to the already considerable burden resting there. 

> “I can’t understand why they’d want that.” She replied carefully, forcing herself to sound much more ignorant than she had any right to be. “What could any of them gain by replacing me?” 
> 
> “A great deal.” Her friend whispered, thankfully taking the bait. Ursa hoped it was out of kindness rather than thinking she was a fool, but with so much at stake, she decided sacrificing a little pride was all right. She wouldn’t miss it if she lost everything anyways. “A connection to the royal family, increased status, great wealth, powerful positions, and a way to reign in Prince Ozai, who is a threat to Azulon’s faction in a way Prince Iroh has never been.”
> 
> “Well, I suppose, on some level, I can understand that.” Ursa commented lightly, continuing to play the fool even though she already knew where this was going. “I suppose I shouldn’t take it personally-”
> 
> “Come Ursa, everything here is personal.” Maizu retorted, looking around again as if she was worried someone would somehow be listening. “There are still those in court who blame you for the fall of General Chirok’s family. He had many allies here and I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them are as resentful of you for your part in that affair as they are hungry for power.” 
> 
> “Oh.” Ursa murmured, forcing her face not display the frustration that suddenly burst to life in her chest. "I hadn't thought of that."

She had been wondering these last few weeks why someone would target her, but never once had she considered it might be connected to that business with that foolish boy. She had thought it was all about ambition, that someone with power and influence coveted her title and the privileges it could provide, especially to a family that wasn’t disgraced like hers was, but she hadn’t considered Risu’s banishment or the shame on the late General Chirok’s family would have anything to do with it. In fact, she had hardly thought of that affair since, marking it as a blot in her past and nothing more. It seemed she had been foolish in more ways than one, overlooking the vulnerability of an heirless consort and the possible enemies she had unintentionally made by being the catalyst to the fall of a once great family. How had she been so blind?

> "I can't blame you, you've never had a real enemy before." Maizu said, possibly in an attempt to comfort her. 

She was wrong, of course, Ursa had fought a very real enemy, but she doubted the tactics she had used against Ozai would be effective here.

> “Or not an enemy I didn't know how to beat." Ursa finally corrected, forcing her chest to open and allow her to breath as she met Maizu's eyes. "But you think it would be these allies who are behind the rumors?” 

She rested her hand on top of Maizu’s as a sign of trust, begging her to help her now as everything seemed to be on the verge of collapse. She hadn’t been sure when Maizu kept away for so long at the beginning of this affair, but after this conversation, she decided to have faith in her friend. With everything so fraught, she really didn’t have allies to spare and couldn’t afford to distrust the few she had left.

> “Indeed, and many of them are part of old and powerful families,” Her friend murmured, squeezing her hand, “So you must be careful and find a way to squash these rumours once and for all, for you know what they say, rumors only grow, and this one will become a true monster if left unchecked.” 

Ursa nodded and swallowed the fear she felt bubbling up in her chest and the urge to tell Maizu she was wrong. They were long past the stage where the growth of this monster could be stopped and Ursa really had no choice but to slay it now, even if it was already fat and full of malice.

\---------

Over this last month, Ursa had found it strange how much she used to love the night and dread the dawn. In the past, when everything was perpetually the same, things always seemed so painfully clear during the day, so bright, so regulated, so ruled by expectations and the demands of her station and birth. She had to be a lady under the sun, pure and virtuous, content and unambitious, as beautiful as she was unimpeachable. Only at night, when the darkness draped the world in fogs of slumber could Ursa ever dream of being more than she was and spit in the face of what her station demanded of her. She could be a phoenix, flying on her own wings, a dragon, born with the fire her own cold fingers lacked, or a great warrior, adventuring off to places unknown. Night was a time of endless possibilities, of a peace she could never find in the waking world. Now though, now the nights were even more dangerous than the day. She found herself restless, too hot then too cold, unable to drift off into a pleasant sleep as anxiety over what her enemies may be planning out there in the darkness plagued her mind. Even when she had thrown herself on Ozai, sometimes more literally than figuratively and lay in bed sweaty and completely spent, she could not find rest. Tonight was no exception, especially as she pondered what Maizu had told her earlier today. The thoughts whirled around her head like a maelstrom and it wasn’t long before her mind demanded answers she could not possibility give herself.

> “Ozai.” She whispered into their dark room, suspecting he had not yet fallen asleep despite his even breaths. “Ozai, are you still awake?”
> 
> “Yes, but if you want an encore, wife, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” Her husband replied from beside her, voice joking even through his own weariness. She smacked him lightly as she rolled over to face him, taking comfort in his gold eyes as they gazed at her in the moonlight. “Are you still having trouble sleeping?” 
> 
> “Yes, but I know the reason tonight.” She murmured, wanting to shift closer to him, but already feeling too warm in her own skin. She usually found the constant heat around him comforting, but over the past week she’d found it only enhanced how feverishly hot she sometimes felt at night. Of course, moments later she’d feel so cold that even clutching him with all her might didn’t make her warm enough, which was equally annoying. “Maizu came to see me today.” 
> 
> “Interesting. Her husband as been quite cool with me of late and I’d imagined his wife would follow his lead.” Ozai responded, casually brushing a strand of hair out of Ursa’s face. “What did she have to say?” 
> 
> “Well, your counter-rumours are working, it seems the court is beginning to believe that this is all just some plot to discredit us.” Ursa informed him with a tight smile, even though she was much more anxious to discuss the darker side of her conversation with Maizu. She would have jumped right in, but she was not eager to have to order new bed sheets in the middle of the night because these ones caught fire should bad news send Ozai into a rage. “But she believes the late General Chirok’s old allies are the ones truly behind your father’s decision. She doesn’t think they’ll stop, even if Iroh succeeds in his part.” 
> 
> “Oh.” Ozai hummed, brow furrowing at her words, almost as if an idea had just clicked in his head. 

Ursa narrowed her eyes at him, gently taking his chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. 

> “I know that face, you’ve just realized something, haven’t you?” She asked, watching his eyes drift away from her in a way she didn’t like. “Ozai-”
> 
> “Perhaps.” He replied softly, pulling his face from her hand and rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. “It would certainly fill an irritating hole in my calculations.” 
> 
> “What do you mean?” She asked, lifting herself up onto her elbow to better be able to appraise his face. 

It was much more serious than it had been moments before and she felt something in her instinctively stiffen in trepidation at that look. 

> “Do you remember our little agreement about your  _ lessons _ ?” Ozai asked, his eyes pointedly avoiding her face in a way that made her suspicious.
> 
> “Of course.” Ursa replied, that whole event was rather seared into her memory, although, less for the conversation and more for what happened afterwards. It had taken days for the marks from that little negotiation to fade and she had even been worried some of his love marks would scar. “Why?” 
> 
> “Well, if you recall, in return for teaching you your desired art, I requested your assistance should an obstacle ever need to be removed.” Her husband explained, his words carefully chosen to hide the true objects involved in the negotiation. 

She wondered if he was doing that in hopes she had forgotten or if he was worried, like Maizu had been earlier, that someone might somehow be listening to them. 

> “Yes, I remember.” Ursa answered primly. “You never did demand I fulfill that favor.” 

Something she had, in fact, been rather glad about, even if she did enjoy a bit of intrigue. Part of her worried she would enjoy it too much and get a taste for Ozai’s brand of political machinations she'd enjoy too much for her own good. Another part, however, wasn’t sure if she’d be able to ruin a whole family’s life, proving to both her and Ozai just how weak she really was under her facade of sarcasm and wit sprinkled with the smallest spice of naivete. If she did prove herself so small, then she was sure Ozai would never be willing to make a peace with her again, and she was not eager to return to the way things had been over a year ago when their marriage had begun.

> “Well, I do believe that obstacle might be the source of our current problems.” Ozai murmured and Ursa stiffened beside him, staring down at him with a mixture of suspicion and anticipation. 
> 
> “So, someone you wanted to get rid of, who happens to be connected to the family I inadvertently helped disgrace, has decided to get back at us by having me removed?” She questioned, irritation dripping on every word. “And you didn’t feel it was necessary to share your suspicions with me until now?”
> 
> “I would have, but-”
> 
> “But what?” She challenged, sitting up to glare down at him, her sleeping gown sticking irritatingly to her still slightly sweaty skin. 
> 
> “I suppose I didn’t believe there was any real connection to you.” Ozai muttered, finally looking at her as she glowered down at him. “I thought that the person was likely someone with influence over my father and someone with a grudge against me, who happened to have a daughter or female relative old enough to replace you.” 
> 
> “So you essentially thought I wasn’t important enough to earn enemies of my own?” Ursa said, her voice low as a strange, cold annoyance began seeping through her veins. 
> 
> “That’s an oversimplification.” He muttered back, meeting her gaze without even a glimmer of remorse. “I didn’t just discount you, but you haven’t gone out of your way to make enemies, so it was highly unlikely, in my opinion, that the target of this attack would be you rather than me. 
> 
> “I see.” Ursa cut back, feeling her annoyance festering at the thought that her husband seemed to have deemed her something of little value in this situation, as a pawn used to attack the king. “But Maizu’s revelation that it may have been connected to that late General Chirok has changed your opinion?” 
> 
> “Well, there were too many options before, but with this there is really only one, and a good one too.” Ozai answered, although he didn’t seem to notice her growing irritation, or really her at all. His eyes seemed far away, wrapped up in himself, and Ursa fought the strange urge to throw her pillow at him. “You see, I wanted this family disgraced because of their connection to General Chirok, but also because the head of this family is one of my father’s oldest friends and has too much sway over him.” He sighed and ran a hand through his night black hair, speaking at her, but not to her. “I was a fool not to see it before. Here we’ve been, doing damage control, running around wondering who it could be, and he was right there all along. Everything fits.” 
> 
> “Well, please share.” Ursa spit in annoyance, tired of him going on about this without giving her any actual information. 

She waited, but Ozai didn’t say anything, didn’t even react to her words and without thinking, she grabbed her pillow and hit him across the face. His neck snapped towards her in surprise, almost like he had forgotten she was there and she swung the pillow at him again for good measure. Unfortunately, she didn't have the element of surprise this time, and her husband caught hold of it with ease, tugging it towards him with surprising force, but she refused to let go, holding onto it with both hands as she glared at him. 

> “That was uncalled for, Ursa.” He told her, his voice imperious in a way that caused her to arch an eyebrow at him and tug back towards her harder. 
> 
> “I disagree.” She shot back, almost falling forwards as he pulled the pillow towards him. “Don’t talk at me like I’m one of your minions, Ozai. Look at me and answer my damned questions.” Her husband narrowed his eyes at her commanding tone, but finally released the pillow, something that almost caused her to fall backwards off the bed from the ricochet. “Not a word or I’ll hit you again.” She hissed at him as she composed herself, waving the pillow threateningly in his direction as a smirk played across his lips.
> 
> “What a terrifying threat.” Ozai teased, but his smile died under her steady, unimpressed gaze. “It’s Minister Suran, son of General Dujeem, who was my father’s tutor on military affairs-”
> 
> “And the man who launched the first attack against the Earth Kingdom under Sozin.” Ursa murmured as that name jumped out at her from the textbooks she had studied at school.
> 
> “Indeed, his family is old, well-connected, and influential. Many serve in the ranks or in various positions of influence, and they have long been connected to the family of the Late General Chirok through marriage and friendship. I was a fool to not realize they were behind this.” Ozai cursed, although his facade remained remarkably composed despite the anger and irritation in his voice.”I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner, they probably think they’re owed your position because before the prophecy, my father even considered marrying me to Minister Suran’s daughter-” Ozai stopped as he saw Ursa’s eyes flare at his words, shutting his mouth so quickly she almost feared he had bit off his tongue. 

Perhaps it would have been better if he had since Ursa now had the irrational urge to hit him, and not with a pillow this time, for his thoughtlessness. Neither of them had ever discussed their pre-marital romances, even after they had gotten past that awful period where they would only pretend to talk to each other. On Ursa’s part, it wasn’t something she really wanted to know about. Iroh had accidentally alluded to it, yes, but she had always been of the opinion that nothing good could come from her learning about the woman who would have held her place had the Fire Sages not intervened. She imagined Ozai had kept his peace on the matter out of a similar line of thought, but she wasn’t sure. Her husband didn’t seem the type to fly into jealous rages, but then again, he could be moved to frightening anger under the right circumstances. Really, there was still much about Ozai she didn’t know, and part of her didn’t want to know anymore. What is it that sages always said? Ignorance is bliss?

> “So, he really does check every box.” Ursa finally commented cooly, withdrawing slightly from him as he exhaled and briefly looked away from her. 
> 
> “Yes, the minister and his family fit every category.” Ozai repeated, looking at her face with an expression similar to their wedding night, like he was assessing her, reading her, judging her, but refusing to allow her to do the same to him. She found herself rather put out by that, although, she couldn’t quite be sure why. On one hand, it was certainly because he had no right to judge her right now, especially since it was increasingly looking like this was his fault. His father, his political war, and his broken engagement. It was all about him, she was just the girl in the way who had made a nuisance of herself by getting General Chirok and his family sent away in disgrace. On another, it was because that look reminded her of how she had felt that night. Isolated, alone, and abandoned, a nobody, someone not even worth looking at. That is what Ozai had dubbed her then and she had fought tooth and nail, through blood, grit, tears, and pain, to prove him wrong, to win him, to earn a home here, and here he was, after all of that, looking at her like that again. How dare he. “You’re seething, aren’t you?” He asked, reaching out for her slowly. “You’re upset because I withheld this from you-”
> 
> “I’m not seething and don’t tell me why I’m upset.” Ursa said shortly, pushing herself off the bed and moving to stand by the window, suddenly feeling feverish amongst the bed’s silk sheets. 
> 
> “Ursa.” Ozai murmured, saying her name like a caress as she heard the bed squeak, something that told her he had followed her off it. “I understand why you’re troubled-”
> 
> “I’m not troubled.” She muttered back, wrapping her arms around herself as she suddenly began to feel cold in the cool breeze blowing in through their bedroom window. 
> 
> “You don’t have to pretend, it’s understandable if you are.” Her husband murmured and she could tell from the change in temperature he was directly behind her. Honestly, how could he stand being so warm all the time? The heat almost made her sick right now from just being near him. “You’re in what many people would acknowledge is a difficult situation and you just found out about my connection to the people attacking you-”
> 
> “Oh, for the love of-” She cut herself off, forcing herself to lower her voice lest she draw more attention to them. The last thing she needed right now was rumours of marital dissonance. That’d be like throwing fat onto a fire and she was in no mood to put out any more wayward infernos. “I’m not troubled, Ozai, I’m annoyed, wait, no, that’s not quite the right word.” She felt a hand ever so gently rest on her shoulder as he came around to look into her face, brow furrowed in slight confusion. “Annoyed isn’t quite strong enough for how I’m feeling right now. Perhaps vexed is a little better, or a little mad if you want to be simple.”
> 
> “Angry?” Ozai questioned and she wanted to smack him so badly as she stared at him incredulously. “Are you angry that I had someone before you?” 

If she wasn’t angry before, she certainly was now, and she shrugged out of his grip, shaking her head at him in slight disgust, fighting to keep her composure as her stomach twisted itself into knots. 

> “No, of course I’m not upset about that, what you did before we were married is none of my concern.” Ursa hissed, balling her hands into fists at her sides. “Now I’m angry that you’d even think, of all the things you just confronted me about, that’s what I’m upset about. No, Ozai, I’m a little peeved that even when my life, my family’s reputation, and everything I have worked for this last year is on the line, everything is always about you!”
> 
> “I’m afraid you lost me there.” Ozai murmured cooly, crossing his arms over his bare chest with a glare. “Are you saying you’d be happier with people trying to dethrone you if it was because of something you had done?” 
> 
> “Yes, because at least that’d be something of my own doing! I wouldn’t just be some pawn in this stupid game! An object that had to be discarded to get to you!” Ursa yelled, before covering her mouth as she felt tears cloud her eyes. 

Really, now was hardly the time to cry, not when she needed to appear strong and unassailable. 

> “Honestly, I’d think it better,” Ozai told her, maybe trying to be kind, but only pouring salt on what was apparently a rather large wound. “It’s not you they want to destroy, they just want the position-”
> 
> “Oh yes, because being seen as nothing, just an obstacle, is so much better than being seen as a person! A person is at least worthy of scorn, of thought, of malice, but no, I don’t even get that!” Ursa cried, before taking a breath and forcing herself to calmly meet his eyes and say, “Do you know what it’s like, Ozai? Being your wife?” 
> 
> “I-”
> 
> “Rhetorical question.” She interrupted with a frown, holding out a hand to silence him, something he never would have allowed even a few months ago. “I am always seen, not heard. I am forbidden from doing things I enjoy and am used as a tool to show favour, or as an ornament to enhance your greatness. I am a creature that is seen and treated like I have no agency of my own, like I am less than a person!” She heard her voice rising as she glared at him, but it was like the words were coming out by themselves, almost as if her body was acting of its own will. “I accepted it because it was my duty and I came to love you because you made it better and I thought, just for a moment, that I could be seen, but then, this happens!” She waved her hands around, feeling strangely light and far away, even as the weight of everything seemed to be crushing her. “Your father orders you to discard me and I thought for a minute it was because of something I did, that I had made some mistake, but at least if it was something I had done, I could have fixed it!”
> 
> “Ursa, you’re growing hysterical-”
> 
> “Good, because I should have long ago!” She thundered, something that caused his eyebrows to raise in surprise. “You see, husband, all my suffering, now and forever, seems to be connected to you. You made my position easy to assail, you tortured and tormented me, and your political machinations have potentially ruined my family! You have made me powerless, you have made me what they always thought I was!” She took a breath under his golden gaze and shook her head, almost laughing at herself as she said, “And that, that is why I am angry, or hysterical, if you think that’s a better word for how lost I feel right now.” 

Ozai stared at her as her words hung in the air like water droplets suspended in sunlight and for once, Ursa wasn’t sure what he would do. When they had met in that charred yard all those weeks ago, surrounded by smoke and ash with danger pulsing in every exchange, she had known what she had to do. Stoke his anger, counter his father’s power, show him she was worth more than whatever paltry affection Azulon could dole out, but now, she had no clue. She had admitted she felt powerless, almost admitted defeat, and Ozai was a predator of the highest order. Her blood was in the water and she wasn’t sure if he’d come to her aid or devour her whole.

> “Powerless, you say?” He finally asked softly, approaching her like a cat on the prowl, something that caused her to retreat back towards their bed. “That’s how you feel? Truly?” 
> 
> “Yes.” She whispered as she felt the backs of her legs bump against their mattress. “And it’s high time I accepted it.” 

He reached for her and she moved to rush to the side, but Ozai’s hand on her arm stopped her. His touch was gentle, surprisingly so given the brightness of his eyes and the almost predatory look on his face as he appraised her, and she couldn’t help but shiver as his hand drifted down ever so gently to clasp her own. 

> “If you’re truly powerless, Ursa, why would I have stayed by your side?” He inquired, eyes staring into her own with an almost frightening intensity. “You know well I am not a man that fights battles he will lose. Why then would I choose to take the side of a powerless woman against the most powerful man in the world?” 

Ursa swallowed, feeling that familiar lightning spread through her body from where their hands were entwined. 

> “Because you’re a fool.” She whispered, remembering the words he had said to her when she had clung to him amongst the ruins of his rampage, 
> 
> “Yes, but only because you made me so.” He told her, taking a small step forward so their chests were almost touching. “A powerless woman could not have made a fool out of me, I wouldn’t have allowed it.” 

Her breath hitched as he leaned down slowly, but at the last minute she pulled away, falling backwards onto the bed with a low thump. 

> “You’re not very good at comforting people, are you?” She asked with a frown, watching him sit by her side with a sigh. “Telling me you let me be powerful is not the way to make me feel better. Having power because you say so is not what I was talking about.” 
> 
> “You really are impossible, sometimes.” Ozai muttered, tiredly laying down beside her so they could be eye to eye. “I think, Ursa, that sometimes you get wrapped up in your own myth. You must be seen to be demure and powerless and I think you’ve let it get to your head.”
> 
> “Thanks.” Ursa deadpanned, shivering as he pressed a soft kiss to the sensitive flesh of her shoulder. “You’re a real comfort.” 
> 
> “I’m not trying to comfort you, only the weak need such coddling and you are not weak. I wouldn’t have let myself fall in love with someone as weak as you’re pretending to be right now.” Ursa’s eyes flared at his words as she turned to look up at him and his eyes widened as well as their gaze meant. It seemed she wasn’t the only one surprised to hear what he had just said. “Ah hem, anyways, what I was saying is you’re pretending to be a small candle flame, but you’re not fooling anybody. You’re a sparking candle, Ursa. Deceptively calm and non-threatening until you spark with bursts of light no one else can rival. You’re not powerless, and I refuse to let you pretend to be so.”
> 
> “As if I need you to let me do anything.” She cut back instinctively, earning her a grin she thought perhaps one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. 
> 
> “Now there you are, you had me worried for a second. It wouldn’t do for you to prove all the people underestimating you right.” Ozai murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek, that she would have savoured if not for the sudden epiphany that struck through the strange fog of powerless despair that had just consumed her. 

In truth, she didn’t know where that had come from. Clearly, she really needed to sleep more, her emotions were all out of equilibrium.

> “Underestimating.” Ursa repeated, feeling her mind clear for the first time in weeks. “I think, my love, you may have just saved our sorry skin.”
> 
> “What?” Ozai asked, clearly confused by the abrupt change in conversation, although she swore she saw the ghost of a smile on his face at her non-sarcastic use of an endearment. 
> 
> “The people who want to replace me thought it’d happen without question, which means they probably didn’t think about ensuring all their own vulnerabilities were hidden and protected.” She told him, rolling over so their faces were mere inches apart.
> 
> “I don’t follow.” Ozai said, although she had a feeling he was beginning to catch on from the smirk on his face. 
> 
> “The first rule of a campaign is you ensure all is right at home. You can’t go off to fight in foreign lands if everything is falling apart in your homeland. So, you tidy everything up, settle all scandals, disruptions, and areas of concern before embarking.” Ursa explained, although she knew well he probably knew more about building military campaigns than she did. “Do you think this Minister Suran properly settled his own affairs and those of his family before attacking us?” 
> 
> “Probably not entirely, for as you said, he underestimated my love for you and thought you’d be thrown out weeks ago.” Ozai answered and Ursa stared at him incredulously for a moment. “What?” 
> 
> “Oh, nothing, you’ve just never said you loved me before, let alone twice in one conversation.” She answered, something that caused him to furrow his brow, but she refused to be led off track. She would properly bask in the fact that he did, apparently, love her when she wasn’t in so much danger. “So, if he has some weakness of his own, we need to find and exploit them, use it to keep him and his dogs at bay while we get about our business.” 
> 
> “That is a rather polite way of putting it, but a fine plan nonetheless.” Ozai complimented with a familiar smirk. 
> 
> “I know,” Ursa retorted, matching his smirk with one of her own, “the only trouble is how.” 
> 
> “I have an idea.” Ozai murmured after a moment with a slightly furrowed brow. “But you’re not going to like it.”

\----------

> “You’re right, I hate this.” Ursa told Ozai as she stood beside him in front of Minister Suran’s rooms. “I hate this so very much.” 
> 
> “I know, but you have to admit, it has the most merit of all the plans we discussed.” Ozai whispered back, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Not to mention, you still owe me for all those  _ lessons _ , think of this as the beginning of your part of the bargain.” 
> 
> “I feel like you invoking that bargain is rather unfair in this situation since it's mainly your fault." She hissed back with slight resentment. 
> 
> "Would you rather we complete our bargain some other way?" He inquired with a smirk, and she huffed with a glare.

It was very in character for him to still demand they maintain their peace agreement, even in these terrible circumstances, but that didn't make her hate it any less. Of all men, why did she have to fall in love with this one?

> "No, if you'll take this as my part of our agreement, than I won't argue with you, but I hope you know how risky this is.” She shot back as General Imai and Maizu appeared. “If this goes awry, we're all doomed.” 
> 
> “Doomed? I think not.” General Imai muttered as Maizu wove her arm through his. “Embarrassed for the rest of our natural lives? Now that sounds like a more likely possibility.” 
> 
> “I can live with a little embarrassment.” Maizu shot back softly, hand gripping her husband’s arm tight enough to scrunch up the fabric of his robes. “Allowing Suran and his ilk another finger in the royal pie? That I cannot.” 
> 
> “On that, we are agreed.” Ozai murmured, before gesturing for the servant beside the door to announce them at last. 
> 
> “Their royal Highnesses Prince Ozai and Princess Ursa and the esteemed General Imai and Lady Maizu.” The servant declared, opening the grand doors and shepherding Ursa and the others inside the luxurious setting for what she assumed would be one of the worst experiences of her life. 

The fact that the first thing she saw was a portrait of Fire Lord Azulon, glaring at her from a scroll as if he knew what they were planning, only seemed to confirm this assumption.

> “Your highness!” A man boomed from his seat at a luxuriously laid lunch table. “You honor us with your presence today!”
> 
> “On the contrary, you do us a great service by hosting today, Minister Suran.” Ozai declared with easy confidence, resting a hand over the one Ursa had wrapped around his arm. “I fear I have been neglecting you of late, but my father has kept me busy, too busy, I’m afraid, to properly make the rounds with my wife.” 
> 
> “There’s no need to explain, your highness, I am well aware that a prince has many commitments and do not resent that you have less time for me than you used to.” The man, evidently Minister Suran, said, his pure white hair looking like snow in the sunlight. 

When Ozai had described him as a man long past his prime, who had known the Firelord since childhood, she had expected, or perhaps hoped, that he would be feeble, stooped with age with eyes clouded and weak. Unfortunately, he was nothing of the sort, standing tall and proud at the head of his table, his keen gaze harsh enough to make Ursa’s skin crawl under her silk robes. 

> "You are most generous, minister." Ozai replied with a grin. "May I present my wife, Princess Ursa." 
> 
> “It is a pleasure to see you again, my dear, you have grown even more beautiful since your wedding.” The minister said and Ursa smiled with false recognition.

Despite his reference to her wedding, she really didn’t remember ever seeing this man before.  She’d say that was a snub, but she had been introduced to so many people at her wedding that she only really could recall those who were interesting or frightening. Apparently, Minister Suran had come off as neither, which was impressive given how imposing he was now. 

> “The pleasure is all mine.” Ursa replied, dipping her words in honey so sweet she hoped he’d gag on them and choke, “I’m sorry that I haven’t had the honor of your company since then, but I’m afraid I’ve been most remiss when it comes to paying calls, but with all the rumors swirling around court recently, it’s something I’m seeking to rectify.” 
> 
> “Of course, my lady, we are honoured by your presence.” The minister replied. His omission of her title was not lost on Ursa, nor on Ozai, it seemed, since his pleasant smile faded quickly. The minister swallowed slightly under Ozai’s cold gaze, but didn’t seek to rectify his mistake, either a bold move or a foolish one, and instead focused his attention on his other two guests. “And General Imai and Lady Maizu, you are most welcome as well.”
> 
> “We deeply appreciate the invitation, sir.” Maizu replied, her face smiling, but eyes dancing with quiet condemnation. 

The Minister's face seemed to harden at this, almost as if he was disappointed he wouldn’t find in an ally in them after all, but that expression passed in the blink of an eye and was quickly hidden under a jovial smile. 

> “You are welcome anytime, now, please, take a seat.” Minister Suran declared, gesturing to the table, which Ursa immediately realized had been set up in a clear snub aimed in her direction. 

By order of precedence, Minister Suran was allowed to head the table as the host, with Ozai seated to his immediate right. Ursa, as Ozai’s wife, was then expected to sit beside him, with other guests following suit in order of rank. However, the seat that should have been Ursa’s was already occupied by a beautiful young woman Ursa could only assume was the relation this family was hoping to replace Ursa with. The insult was plain and if not for the plan, Ursa would have demanded they leave and Ozai would have had every right to challenge Minister Suran to an Agni Kai, something Ursa had no doubt he would win, no matter how tall and straight the minister still stood. However, more was at stake than her pride and she gripped Ozai’s arm slightly tighter to tell him to keep his temper as she saw his eyes flare ever so slightly. He took a breath, something that caused Ursa to tense as she readied herself to cover his mouth with whatever necessary to stop him flying off into a temper, but when he exhaled, his face contorted in a cold smile and he moved to sit down. Ursa relaxed her grip slightly, but reasserted her strength when her husband moved past his chair and very pointedly pulled out the seat that should have, by rights, been General Imai’s, and gestured for Ursa to sit down. Ursa did, although she sent him a warning look, and watched him move one place down, even farther away from the place of honor. 

> “Your highness, are you waiving your right?” A man at the table, probably the Minister's son, asked politely, clearly realizing Ozai was not going to play this game by Minister Suran's rules. 

His tone was polite enough, but Ursa saw the clear challenge in both the man's and the minister’s eyes, the clear condemnation of this upset or order. Funny they should pretend to be outraged when this was all their own doing.

> “Yes, I feel it is my duty to sit beside my wife when surrounded by company she is not familiar with.” Ozai replied with equal respect, pulling out the chair that should have been Maizu’s my rights and sitting down in it with pointed finality. “Does anyone have a problem with that?” Ursa felt stiff and exposed under the glares of the rest of the guests and almost flinched as Ozai took her hand as he settled to her right. “No? Good.” 

He nodded to Maizu, who quickly realized what he wanted and took the other seat next to Ursa while General Imai sat in the place of honor at Minister Suran’s right. Ursa felt a small kernel of satisfaction at the frown that briefly graced the Minister's face, something she barely had the decency to feel ashamed about.

> “If that is what you want, your highness, then none of us will object.” The dignified woman to the Minister’s left asked, his wife, if Ursa had to guess, “But are you sure this is suitable? Protocol says-”
> 
> “Protocol was broken long before I stepped into this room, Lady Hyn.” Ozai replied with a tight, warning smile. “And I’m sure Lady Eizame, who is such a proponent of chivalry, will not be offended that I do my wife justice by supporting her right to always be at my side.” 
> 
> “Understand? We all applaud your gallantry, prince Ozai.” The man from before, well, perhaps a boy old enough to be considered a man, said. “I do hope you know that no offense was intended, we were simply trying to ensure interesting conversation.” 
> 
> “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, Captain Aijuso.” Maizu cut in, her smile as sharp as a blade. “But you all should know that with the Prince and Princess in attendance, there would be no shortage of conversation since they are both so knowledgeable in so many areas.” 
> 
> “Of course, of course.” Minister Suran interrupted, sending the captain, who Ursa assumed was his son from his age, a slightly withering look. “But everyone knows it’s hard to talk on empty stomachs, so let us eat.” 

Ozai gallantly filled Ursa’s plate before his own under the watchful eyes of this wretched family, brushing her leg with his beneath the table in a way she found comforting. It was almost funny that the part of this affair she had been dreading least was turning out to be so unbearable. 

> “I’ve heard you’re quite the connoisseur of poetry, Princess Ursa.” The woman, Lady Eizame, called from Maizu’s left. 
> 
> “I wouldn’t say connoisseur, but I do enjoy the intricacies of all types of poetry.” Ursa replied as she cut into her roasted hippo-ox. “But I must admit that chivalry is an art I am not as familiar with. Would you consider yourself a scholar of this art?” 
> 
> “A scholar? Perhaps not.” Lady Eizame answered primly, her dark eyes noticeably less hostile than those of her family. “I do, however, think it is a dying art that we must all work to preserve, which is why I try to sponsor works on that subject.” 
> 
> “I applaud your efforts.” Ursa replied, pressing a kiss to Ozai’s hand in the most conspicuous of manners. “After all, men need no encouragement to act like brutes. I fear without chivalry, they’d have no decorum at all.” 
> 
> “Not all men, my love.” Ozai replied with a smile so sickly sweet it made Ursa almost nauseated. 

Perhaps it was strange, but she wasn’t exactly fond of this over-affectionate display he so often put on in public, preferring his more reserved manner when they were alone. She guessed it was because the former always reeked of falsehood to her, and there was too much falseness in the royal court for her liking without him adding more.    


> “Perhaps, but I feel that even princes might falter should there be no rules to restrain their behavior.” Lady Eizame countered politely, causing Ozai’s eyes to dart towards her with a look Ursa found strangely familiar. 
> 
> “Your opinion of men must be very low indeed to make such a statement, my lady.” Ozai cut back tartly, although his eyes didn’t quite match his tone. 

Ursa forced down the strange pang of, well, something that rose up in her chest when she realized why she recognized that look. It was how he used to look at her in the early stages of their marriage, when she’d catch his interest and he’d look at her like she was the most fascinating person in the world. She had never seen him look at anyone else like that and she supposed she had just assumed that was a look he only gave her. How disappointing to learn she was wrong. 

> “My opinion is not low, just my expectations.” Lady Eizame retorted before taking a sip of her tea. 

Ursa put a hand on Ozai’s leg under the table, something that caused him to bite back whatever response he was about to give and look at her in vague, surprised confusion. She shook her head slightly and glanced towards the hallway twisting off to the right of the table. He sighed, but nodded, taking her hand and squeezing it, a comforting gesture that told her he was back on track. Honestly, she had expected him to have to keep her in line during this plan, not the other way around. 

> “I think we give men to much flack for the degradation of chivalry.” Lady Hyn said after it became clear Ozai would not be continuing his argument with Lady Eizame. “Women too can act in the most undignified of manners. Vulgarity is so often taken for wit these days, and some women seem to even believe that prowess in private areas should be openly bragged about in public spaces. What do you think, Princess? I’ve been told you’re rather familiar with that area as well.” 

Ursa arched an eyebrow as she met the older woman’s eyes and had to stop herself from laughing out loud at that sorry attempt at a rebuke. 

> “I’m afraid you’ve bee misled. I was not aware that talking about the private affairs you were referring to was now a court hobby, but then again, I don’t often listen in on others’ conversations, especially if they happen to be about things that are none of my concern.” Ursa replied, sending Ozai a winning smile as she aimed her own rebuke at her host’s wife. “However, I do believe vulgarity is subject to taste. What one may believe is vulgar, another may think is appropriately risque. I would not dare to state where one begins and the other ends, but I do believe women should be allowed to be a little daring. After all, conversation would be rather boring without a touch of the untoward.”
> 
> “How forward thinking.” Captain Aijuso responded with a smile that could curdle milk. “But perhaps you are able to say so because you weren’t raised at court like Eizame and I were. I’m sure your provincial upbringing was rather different, but in the capital, politeness and respectability are valued over all else in both genders.” 
> 
> “We obviously were brought up in two very different places then.” General Imai countered as Ozai squeezed Ursa’s hand, the signal that she should begin the plan at the next opportunity. “I thought that ambition and confidence were the two traits so pushed in the Imperial Academies?”
> 
> “Well, perhaps that was stressed in the boys school, but I doubt it was pushed in the Imperial Academy for Girls.” Lady Hyn retorted primly over her tea.
> 
> “I can actually refute that, we were taught to be polite, but always brave and certainly ambitious.” Maizu replied with a smirk. “After all, women from families as great as ours represent a potentially great source of generals, ministers, scholars, and tacticians. It’d be foolish for the daughters of the Fire Nation to sit back idly and let less worthy sons take their places.” 
> 
> “Here here.” Ursa said before bringing the cup of who knows what set before her to her lips. 

It turned out to be some flavored beverage, tangy and sweet, but Ursa was sure to grimace as she put it down and cough, highlighting the cue that the plan was finally being set in action. How funny that she welcomed the danger of what was to come in favor of the uncomfortable conversation happening here.

> “Are you all right, sweetheart?” Ozai asked as Ursa put a hand to her mouth like she was going to be sick. 
> 
> “Um, no, I don’t think I am.” She muttered, pretending to swallow a gag. “Can someone show me to the water closet?” 
> 
> “Follow me, your highness.” Lady Eizame said right away, gesturing for Ursa to follow her. 

Ursa rushed after her guide like she was desperate, hearing Maizu follow on her heals. 

> “Is she quite all right?” Ursa heard Minister Suran ask as she turned the corner down the dark hallway she had been eyeing earlier. 
> 
> “Oh yes, the doctors say the nausea will pass in a month or so.” Ozai’s voice answered and the silence that followed as Ursa rushed down a hall was deafening. 
> 
> “Here, your highness.” Lady Eizame told her and Ursa nodded in thanks before rushing in and closing the door. 

She rolled her eyes and was sure to gag as she threw water in the nearby basin into the lavatory, making sure the splashes of supposed vomit were clearly audible. 

> “Should I be giving the Prince and Princess my congratulations?” Lady Eizame asked, her voice surprisingly free of malice, even though Ursa hardly trusted that. 

If the minister’s daughter had really grown up at court, she was surely as good an actress as Ozai, meaning nothing she did could be trusted until Ursa learned to read her better. Perhaps not even then.

> “Not quite yet, it’s too early with such things, but soon I’d imagine.” Maizu replied as Ursa gagged again and threw more water in, moaning dramatically as if she was in the greatest of agony. “Do you need help, your highness?” 
> 
> “Yes please.” Ursa groaned, positioning herself by the lavatory as she heard the handle click. “But no one else, this is humiliating.” 
> 
> “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Princess Ursa.” Lady Eizame’s voice said, “Everyone understands, I’ll give your excuses to the table.” 

Maizu slipped in as Lady Eizame’s footsteps echoed down the hall and Ursa immediately got up with a frown of distaste, glaring at Maizu as laughter sang from her friend’s eyes. 

> “Quite the performance, you really are a good actress.” Maizu complimented with an irritating grin. “Everyone here now thinks you’re with child.” 
> 
> “If only.” Ursa murmured, feeling almost as nauseated as she had pretended to be as she mentally laid out the next part of this idiotic endeavor. “You know the plan?”
> 
> “Yes, yes, pretend to be comforting you in here while you go and snoop about.” Maizu responded, although her face quickly became serious. “But be quick. If you’re caught-”
> 
> “I know.” Ursa whispered, shuddering at the thought. “I’ll be back soon.” 

She quietly opened the door and glanced down the hallway to make sure no one was lurking about. Luckily, she seemed to be the only one skulking at the moment so she quickly ran across the hall into the first room.  Ozai had shown her the layout of Minister Suran’s family quarters last night, explaining that all the bedrooms were along this hall and would be the most likely place for someone in such a high-ranked family to hide their dirty little secrets. How he knew this was a question Ursa had decided she didn’t need the answer to. Luckily though, Captain Aijuso’s chamber was the closest to the lavatory, which was convenient because Ozai was convinced he would probably have the most to hide. Given that he was a young man who had grown up in the lap of luxury, Ursa would have leaned towards investigating him first anyways, especially once her husband told her that the captain frequented certain Tea Houses known for their exotic entertainment. Unfortunately, that alone wasn’t enough to use against their enemies since half the court indulged similar untoward habits. In fact, that was hardly enough to cause a scandal unless he was doing frankly ludicrous things along with what was expected from such a visitation. What they needed was something that could ruin a family, such as an untoward affair, a treasonous correspondence, or blatant corruption. Given what little she knew of Captain Aijuso from her brief interaction with him today, she assumed the first option was the most likely. He didn’t seem brave enough to consider treason, but certainly was not stupid enough to record corruption. However, when she closed the door to his room and looked around, she realized just how hard it would be to find solid proof of even an affair. 

The room wasn’t messy, per say, but it was certainly disorderly. The closet was open with robes discarded carelessly on the floor, letters sat in piles all over the place, and there were too many chests and drawers for her to properly check. Ursa tutted to herself as she looked around, internally wondering where she’d hide compromising information or a gift from an illicit affair. Actually, if it was her doing this, she wouldn’t hide it at all, but destroy it. She certainly had when it came to Ikem’s letters and she feared any sane person would, but given the disorder of this room and Aijuso’s bravado, there was a chance the captain wasn’t so careful. The only question was, where would he hide them if he hadn’t destroyed them? 

> “I’m a self-important first-born son of an old family.” She muttered to herself, probably appearing a little unhinged as her eyes darted wildly around the room. “And I have secrets that I’m sentimental about. Where would I put them?” 

Her eyes fixed on the bed and the drawers beside it. Would a man like Aijuso keep his secrets close? She carefully stepped over a discarded robe of some sort and walked to his bed. There were letters beside it, but after a quick perusal of them, she learned they were just from his brothers. Her next instinct was to check under his pillow, but that proved useless too. Honestly, why was she the one doing it? She may be less noticeable than Ozai and her absence easier to excuse, but her husband would be much better at finding these things since had had no doubt had his immoral liaisons. Ursa had never had a furtive affair in her life and really had no idea would hide the fruits of his debaucherous labors. 

> “Think like he’s a character.” She muttered, forcing herself to stop thinking rationally, and start looking at things like a young, spoiled man. “I’m young, I’m having an affair, but family is important to me, I owe everything to my parents.” She glanced around the room as if she was on a stage, taking in the setting to add depth to this character. It was generally disorderly, but the family portrait hanging on the wall and the area around it where various honors were hung were perfectly immaculate, showing a certain level of respect not extended to the rest of his possessions. “I’m proud of my heritage and my accomplishments, but I yearn for excitement and what I can’t have, so I act out. However, I live in fear of disgracing my family. So if I did do something untoward and was too much of an idiot to destroy all the evidence, I’d hide it somewhere I know my family would never find them.” She frowned as she thought back to her own parents, feeling a familiar pang of sadness as she thought of her life in Hira’a and how simple everything had been then. How funny it would have been for her to imagine from her room, covered in paintings she and her mother had done, that she’d be a princess skulking about her political opponent’s bedroom looking for blackmail. How quickly everything had changes. “Now, where do parents never look?” She whispered, although she really didn’t have a clear answer to that question.

In her youth, she had never really had to hide anything from her parents, mostly because she never did anything worth hiding. They knew of Ikem, but didn’t disapprove, she didn’t visit any places of ill repute, and she had never dabbled in intoxicants or stimulants. However, when she had bought that book of explicit poems on her sixteenth birthday, she had been sure to hide in amongst items even her mother would not touch. Ursa sighed as her eyes drifted around the room and suddenly fixated on a set of drawers in his closet. Yes, if she was a rich, spoiled, proud boy pretending to be a man and was scared his mother would find out about his affairs, he’d probably hide amongst something even she would shrink from going through. She carefully approached the drawers, jumping over books and briefs tossed carelessly on the floor, and steeled herself before opening the top drawer. As she suspected, it was filled with undergarments. 

> “Please let these be washed.” Ursa murmured to herself as she dug through them and sure enough, she found a set of letters at the very bottom, wrapped in an absurdly large pair of briefs. 

She pulled them out with bated breath and saw they were addressed to Aijuso from a Lady Tenae. Now, why did that name sound so familiar? Naturally, of course, she couldn’t be allowed to ponder this at all because she was suddenly aware of footsteps thumping their way in her direction.

> “I'll be right back.” She heard the captain say from much too close by and it was all she could do not to curse out loud. 

Ozai was supposed to keep them at the table! How useless was he?! She closed the drawer as quietly as possible, mentally screaming curses at her husband all the while, and looked around desperately for somewhere to hide as the footsteps grew louder. With nowhere better, she dove into the closet, concealing herself behind a few robes and covering herself in a few others in the very back, praying that the pitch darkness would hide her. 

The door to the room opened with a low, ominous creak and she heard someone enter. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as the footsteps grew closer and closer to her and she swore her heart stopped as the closet door opened wider, allowing light to shine in through the opening and slowly reach towards her patch of safe darkness. With wide eyes and a heart beating much too quickly for its own good, she watched that damned line of brightness approach with a feeling of sick dread, but right before her heart exploded, it stopped. 

She barely had time to be relieved about that though before a hand began rummaging through the robes, causing the clothes hanging right in front of Ursa to ripple threateningly. Honestly, if she didn’t die during this, Ozai was going to be in for a world of suffering because this was not what she signed up for. Well, actually, she had never signed up for any of this, but hiding in a man’s closet with his illicit love letters while said man rummaged just above our head was too much, even for her. 

> “Now, where is that damned thing?” She heard the minister's son whisper and she held her breath as one of the robes in front of her shifted ever so slightly. 

How would she explain this if she was found in here? “I had a womanly fit of hysteria and needed somewhere to hide?” or “I’ve secretly been in love with you for months now and needed to see your things?” No, both of those were atrocious and downright humiliating. Should she just faint? Would that even work? Could she fake an attack of some sort and pretend to have gone mad? She closed her eyes as something shifted right in front of her. 

> “Ah.” She heard him say and for a second she thought Aijuso had seen her. One second passed, then another, then another. This was absolute torture. “Finally.” He said and then he was walking away. 

Ursa swore sweat was running down her back in rivers as his footsteps disappeared and the door slid shut, leaving her to have a panic attack in peace and it took her at least a minute to settle herself down enough to extricate herself from the closet. 

> “Screw Ozai and his plans.” She murmured as she all but fell out of the closet, feeling almost like she had run the length of the Great Divide as she tried to catch her breath. “Screw him to hell.” 

The letters fell out of her robes as she braced herself against the ground and as she went to pick them out, she found herself reading through some of the lines. They were certainly love letters, filled with phrases like “my heart is yours” and “being without you is worse than death”. Quite unoriginal, actually, but she supposed if it was what Lady Tenae liked, the cliche composition hardly mattered. What did matter was who this lady was. Ursa was sure she had heard her name before, although she could not quite place where. Perhaps they had met at some court function?

> ‘Ursa?” She heard Maizu hiss from outside. “Ursa, are you okay?” 
> 
> “I think so.” She whispered, going to the door and opening it a crack. “I found what we were looking for though, cliche love letters, at least a few months’ worth.” 
> 
> “Oh, with whom?” Maizu asked, looking down the hall worriedly. 
> 
> “A Lady Tenae.” Ursa answered, frowning down at the packet of letters in her hand. “I don’t know if that’s particularly scandalous-”
> 
> “Oh, it is.” Maizu hissed, a look of almost cruel joy on her face. “Lady Tenae is the sister of Prince Iroh’s late wife. She’s married to Minister Shuh and is mother of eight children. Not that it matters much, but she is also twenty years older than our dear captain.” 
> 
> “Oh.” Ursa said, because what else could she say to that? 

The face of a beautiful, if slightly older, woman appeared before her as she recalled meeting her several times at various occasions. Nothing about that woman had told her she was the type to cavort with someone like Aijuso, but she supposed looks could always be deceiving. 

> “How old are these letters?” Maizu asked quickly as the clatter of cutlery echoed from the dining room. 

Ursa glanced down at the letters, feeling more pity for Aijuso and Lady Tenae than scorn. From what little she had read, it did seem like more than just a fling, and should people really be punished for being in love? She could already hear Ozai sneering at that comment. How weak would she have to be to let her pity get the better of her self-preservation? She inwardly cursed, but pushed her better instincts away, forcing herself to focus and finally locate a date. 

> “Three years old, it seems.” She murmured, meaning Aijuso had likely only been in his mid twenties when this affair occurred. “That’s a little unsettling now that I think about it.”
> 
> “For more reason that one.” Maizu murmured with a furrowed brow. “I do believe Lady Tenae’s youngest child is turning three this year.” 
> 
> “Oh dear-”
> 
> “We can discuss this later, take them and let’s go.” Maizu interrupted and Ursa carefully folded them into the inner pockets of her robes before taking Maizu’s arm, putting a miserable expression on her face, and allowing herself to be led back to lunch. 
> 
> “Ursa, are you all right?” Ozai asked, standing to meet her as she appeared once more. 
> 
> “I’m afraid not.” Maizu answered as Ursa did her best to look incredibly ill, which wasn’t that hard since she was feeling rather awful. “I think she should go back to your rooms, your highness. I’ll escort her-”
> 
> “No, she’s this way because of me, it’d be unchivalrous to abandon her now.” Ozai replied with an apologetic smile. “Don’t you agree, lady Eizame?” Ursa forced herself not to glare at him as that comment rolled across the room, greeted with momentary silence. Normally, Ursa thought she would have liked hearing Ozai taunt the girl who sought to take her place, but a part of her didn't think Lady Eizame quite deserved it. Her family certainly did, but not her, especially not if her only crime was believing she would one day marry him.
> 
> “Of course, Prince Ozai.” The lady replied with respectable grace, sending Ursa what might be an encouraging smile. “You don’t object, do you father?”
> 
> “Of course not, we shall have another lunch when the Princess is farther along and feeling better.” Lord Suran responded, although the doubt in his eyes made it clear he at least suspected some foul play here. 

Ozai, however, didn’t waste any time and gallantly took Ursa from Maizu and escorted her from the room. She leaned against him heavily, resting her head against his shoulder for dramatic effect as they did, and only when they were back in their rooms did she pull away. Disgusted didn’t even begin to describe how horrible she felt as the doors to their chambers closed with a resounding thud. She felt dirty, unclean, and perhaps a little guilty, and Ozai’s proud smirk was doing nothing to alleviate any of that.

> “What a wonderful performance, Ursa.” Ozai told her, even as she glared at him, suddenly feeling to hot and stifled in her robes. “You even had Lady Hyn convinced.”
> 
> “But not Minister Suran, he knows something wasn’t right.” Ursa answered, throwing off her robe as she pulled the letters from the inner pockets. “That was completely awful, by the way, thanks for putting me through that.” 
> 
> “It was the only way-”
> 
> “Oh, I’m sure.” Ursa interrupted, tearing the various ornaments from her hair, which felt much hotter and heavier than usual. “You were supposed to keep them at the table, Ozai. Instead, I had to hide in a closet as Aijuso rummaged so close I thought he’d touch my head!” Her husband pursed his lips at her words and for a second she thought he was annoyed, but after seeing his slightly shaking shoulders she realized he was laughing. “It’s not funny!” 
> 
> “No offense, my love, but it is.” Her husband said as a laugh escaped his lips. ‘It’s quite funny.” She narrowed her eyes and threw one of the pillows resting on the couch at him, only growing angrier when he easily caught it and tossed it behind him. “Did you at least get some proof for all your suffering?” 
> 
> “Don’t mock me, of course I did.” She seethed, handing him the letters. “Although, I do think if this should come to light, it’d be worse for his paramour than him.” 
> 
> “Yes, it always is worse for the woman, especially if she’s married.” Ozai murmured, as Ursa began to feel slightly dizzy, possibly from the adrenaline crash she felt coming and sat herself down on the couch. “Lady Tenae, my my. You're quite right Ursa, the poor lady would be much more humiliated that Aijuso should this come to light. I can't say I blame her though, she’s still beautiful today and her husband really is an absolute pig-” 
> 
> “Did you know of this?” Ursa interrupted, not caring about why Lady Tenae would have embarked on a relationship with a Aijuso as she briefly put a hand to her forehead. 
> 
> “I had an inkling.” Ozai told her with a smile, looking over the tops of the letters with an annoying amount of satisfaction. “I wouldn’t have sent you in there if I wasn’t relatively sure you’d find something. Where were they, by the way?”
> 
> “With his undergarments.” Ursa muttered, only managing a weak smile as Ozai laughed. 
> 
> “Not as creative with hiding his secrets as he is in terms of paramours, it seems.” Her husband murmured. “Now that we have these-” A knock rang at the door and Ozai and Ursa both stiffened, sharing a worried glance as Ozai put the letters in the nearest cabinet before saying, “Enter.” 

A messenger walked, head bowed with a silver tray in his hands baring something that haunted Ursa's nightmares: a letter with the royal seal. Ursa had come to dread the arrival of all letters in the past few weeks since they rarely carried good news, and she swore she was going to be sick as Ozai took it with a nod of thanks. The messenger scurried away as Ozai opened it and seconds became hours as his eyes scanned the page. 

> “Well?” She pressed, forcing herself to stand and approach him despite her nausea. “What does it say?” 
> 
> “Father has been convinced of the importance of your blood.” Ozai whispered, his voice more relieved than Ursa had been expecting. “He’ll discuss it with us when we get back, but it seems we now have our time, and the power to ensure Minister Suran can’t threaten us again.” 

Ursa nearly collapsed as all the weight that had been resting on her shoulders for almost a month suddenly dissipated. She felt horribly light and terribly free as she threw her arms around Ozai’s neck, revelling in the wonderful, incredible catharsis that consumed her. Everything seemed brighter, the sun shining through the windows, the colors of Ozai's robes, and the gold of his eyes as he laughed in relief, twirling her like he would in a fairy tale. She swore she could have died in this moment a happy woman, or lived in it forever in perfect bliss, if she suddenly hadn’t felt bile working its way up her throat. 

> “Oh no.” She murmured, wrenching herself from Ozai and running, for real this time, to the water closet. 

She barely made it to the basin as everything she had eaten today forced its way past her lips and out her nose in a grotesque stream of horror. Her throat burned, her stomach heaved, and a horrible acrid taste filled her mouth as she thought she just might be dying for a second. Almost as soon as she had caught her breath from the first wave, another came and a horrible, much more watery, encore appeared. Her abdomen ached as it was forced to convulse against her will and the world faded away as she closed her eyes and waited for the worst to be over. Ursa only realized someone was holding her hair away from her face once she regained use of her senses. She didn't know whether she wanted to thank Ozai for coming to her aid or banish him from her presence until this was over. 

> “Perhaps we should call for the physician.” Ozai murmured, gold eyes looking at her with something she hadn’t seen before as her stomach heaved again, although this time there was nothing to throw up so she just dry retched. 

He handed her a towel and as she buried her face in it, she realized he was staring her with what might be fascination, but also mixed with something else. Anticipation? Joy? Hope? Now that was something Ursa never thought she’d see, but today was filled with things she’d never thought would happen. She never thought she’d break into a man's room to steal his secret love letters and end up hiding in the back of said man's closet as he rummaged for something, let alone survive Fire Lord Azulon’s dismissal. She supposed one more unexpected surprise was hardly uncalled for on a day like today.

> “Yes,” Ursa greed, resting a hand on her tight and turning stomach. “I think we should.”


End file.
